


Our Story Was Written In Stars

by MeeMaw



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Possessive Jon Snow, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Proof was hidden away of course, R Plus L Equals J, Slow Burn, There was enough proof of R+L marriage at citadel, Viserys is a good brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-07-10 03:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeeMaw/pseuds/MeeMaw
Summary: She who was born with silver hair and violet eyes. She dreamt of a blue flower growing from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness.He who was born with steel in his eyes and was condemned to be an outsider. The silent man standing in the shadows, who dared not speak his true name for the rest of his life, however long that might be.





	1. All Of My Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Everything belongs to GRRM and HBO. I’m only imagining in dark.
> 
> Don’t be hurt about the scene with Ned and Varys. The books are a bit vague here. In the black cells, Varys offered Ned to write a letter and Ned may or may not have written one in the end, given Varys did not promise whether or not he would read it.
> 
> Please remember its canon divergent fic set in canon universe.
> 
> Thank you.

It was a secret too great, too dangerous but Lord Eddard Stark had been feverish, severely hallucinated and had lived in darkness and deceit for too long. The gaoler was a man no more. The place was not the dungeons of the Red Keep. Lord Stark was in the Winterfell Godswood and he was kneeling before the heart tree.

Lord Stark confessed to everything that had happened since the rebellion, of the broken promises that haunted every living moment of his life, of the Queen who died giving birth in a room smelling of blood and winter roses and a king, who was raised a bastard in his home.

Unfortunately, the lord did not live to see the consequences of his revelation before another mad king, cut from a different cloak albeit, brought further destruction of his house.

The gaoler kept his word though and not a word of Lord Stark’s secret was divulged to the ruling house of Lannisters.

The word reached another house instead.

*-*-*

A great conspiracy was being contrived for years now. The one that was incubating across the narrow seas. It was time to bring it to fruition.

The Golden Company had broken a contract for the first time since its inception. There was one thing and one thing alone that could tempt them to do so. Home. The promise of home, the exiled Targaryens had offered.

The scions of house Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen and Daenerys Targaryen were headed home after a long wait. They had the might of Essos behind them.

The Targaryens had dragons. Three of them. They had hatched the dragons through magic of the Asshai’i. They were destined to fight the great darkness that would otherwise engulf the soul of every living being.

They had bought all of the Unsullied and then laid the slaver cities to waste, installing their own rule there.

The Unsullied had been the only ones the Dothraki ever bowed too. And everyone bowed before the dragons.

Dothraki horselords followed the Dragonlords and were promised they could return once their oath to the Targaryens was fulfilled. The Volantene and the free cities emptied their coffers for the favour, however temporary. They let them pass without opposition.

Once they established their seat at Dragonstone, Viserys Targaryen turned westward and Daenerys Targaryen mounted Drogon and headed North, in search of the third head of the dragon. 

*-*-*

 

Daenerys Targaryen landed inside the yards of Castle Black, riding on the back of Balerion the Black incarnate. She had reached Eastwatch and marched with a huge army under the banners of three red dragons on a black field.

She was clad in heavy furs, in the colours of her House.

The Lord Commander of the Watch has been murdered. They told her. She could have scorched everyone in sight for this treachery. But something stopped her. The Red Priestess. She has seen enough of powers of magic and of the Red Priests.

“Summon her!”

The Red Priestess bowed respectfully.

“Can you resurrect him?”

“I can try.”

Daenerys Targaryen stood by her blood when the priestess spoke the words. A gigantic, quite beast with white furs and crimson eyes stood silently by her. He seemed to trust her and she found odd comfort in his presence.

The priestess said the words, lowered her head in defeat, and then left wordlessly.

Gloom set in her eyes and her heart. But Daenerys Targaryen did not flee.

When Jon Snow opened his eyelids, he saw white. White of ghost, reminiscent of the old Gods, of the blood and sap of the weirwood tree. And pale white silver hair and  crimson cheeks. Something out his dreams.

She removed her own black furs, covered him with them and steadied him in her arms when he faltered. She breathed life in him when she placed her warm lips on his cheek and whispered “ānogar ānograro” in a foreign tongue. It meant something sweet, he knew in his mangled heart.

She summoned her own maesters and stood in silence next to him as they tended to his wounds and scars. She did not eat supper but made sure he ate. If he had any questions, he did not ask them, yet.

She allowed his trusted men and friends in his chambers, stationed four of her blood riders at his doors, and left.

*-*-* 

He went to find her chambers days later, when his injuries had recovered enough for him to walk.

“Who are you?” he asked her once her guards let him in.

“You do not know it yet?” She was reading messages by the oil lamp.

He hair were loosely tied and her violet eyes shone like ambers. Ambers that felt so comforting amidst chill of winter. Jon had not seen anything so beautiful in his life. He had to distract himself else he would fall in a trance.

“I know what I have been told by my _black_ _brothers_ ” he winced at the words. “Why are you doing this for me? I am just a bastard. If you think I can help you win the North, you are mistaken.”

“I do not need you for winning the North. Half of them have already pledged fealty.” She said waving her hand towards the messages on her desk.

“As for the other half, I am going to ask them soon. They have been summoned here. If they do not show up, I shall pay them a visit myself.”

“I am here for you.” She said in a familial voice that surprised him.

Daenerys explained to him everything about the circumstances of his birth and his parentage, the name his mother had given him in death bed, and shared with him all the documents they could retrieve from the Citadel.

It was too much for him to comprehend. He was not sure how he could deal with the new identity, one she was offering him. Nothing had come without a price to him. Why should this be any different.

“What do you want from me?” He asked more firmly this time.

She offered him comforting words about family and house and fate. None of those changed his distant and pained look.

She touched his arm and he stepped back from her.

“You are our family my Lord. We all have suffered enough and it is time we band together.”

“I am not your family. I have never been a Stark and I am no Targaryen either.” Was it pain or disgust in his voice, she could not tell.

“My Lord, you gave your life for the wildlings, you know this better than I that only together we can defeat the threat beyond Wall. I come with a large army and three dragons. Surely you require the Crown’s aid?” She did not want to bring this up and it shamed her to use his fragility.

She had been diligent in gathering information since her arrival.

“The freefolk have nothing but pelts on their backs now, the watch took away their gold and treasures.” She reminded him. “Do you not wish them assimilated with the northerners? Good Queen Alysanne gifted lands to the Watch. We could arrange something similar or more if you like.”

She found a hint of approval in his eyes as she spoke.

“The king has released you from your vows and even if he didn’t, you have sacrificed your life that bound you to the Night’s watch oath.” She offered.

“I am Jon Snow. I am bound to no House. But I will do everything in my power to defeat the dead.”

He gave her a stiff bow of head and left.

 *-*-* 

 “My Lord, the Princess has requested your presence.”

He found her standing in the courtyard. The mutineers were rounded and tied up.

“In name of king Viserys Targaryen, I, Daenerys Targaryen, sister to the king, sentence you to death for the treachery committed against your Lord Commander.”

Daenerys extended Longclaw in its scabbard to Jon. He was tempted to ask her to look away. But he didn’t, for there was something in her eyes that he could not decipher. 

Daenerys watched with bright eyes and vengeance and Ghost growled by her side as Jon swung his sword and the noose tightened around the mutineers' throats.

 *-*-* 

She introduced him to Rhaegal. “Named for your sire.” She said. The green dragon took him in his bronze eyes and blinked in recognition of his blood.

“You shall ride him one day, I think.”

“We shall see.” He didn’t think so.

*-*-* 

The northerners answered her summons. Some of them wanted North to be an independent kingdom with Jon Stark as their king and Jon inwardly scoffed at the thought. It was a mere boyish dream from his other life, no more.

Daenerys was more prudent.

“You say this winter will be like none other. The fell beings that you speak of, what happens when they find their way into the lands of the living? What would an independent North do then? Where do you retreat if need be? Will a hostile south provide you refuge? Will they share their grain with you? Will they provide you aid in any form?”

“We have Riverlands. They swore fealty to King Robb Stark. Our people can retreat there.”

“Do you?” Daenerys Targaryen asked pointedly.

Their silence was telling.

The Targaryen banners and the northerners together re-took Winterfell and reinstated the Starks.

Jon had led the combined armies but refused any titles.

Lady Sansa Stark was declared the Warden. Her first order as Warden was execution of Petyr Baelish.

Over time, Winterfell was being rebuilt. Stones and soul. Brandon Stark and Arya Stark returned home. Lord Howland Reed arrived to reunite with his daughter and shared all he knew of Lyanna Stark, Jon’s mother.

“You are still our brother.” The Starks had told him and that was all he needed to hear.

 *-*-* 

Daenerys was standing at the Winterfell ramparts overlooking the lights in Wintertown, her hand resting on a white, furry presence that reached above her waist when Jon approached her. “You did not use your dragons in war.”

Ghost trotted away once she was with Jon.

“No, the north needed to unite behind someone and not forced on its knees. The threat of dragons was sufficient and we must not scorch the lands we wish to plant trees on one day.”

She was different, he knew. And she was burrowing deeper in his soul every day.

_“Sires, Lady Stark requests your presence at the feast.”_

“Soon I’ll retreat to the Wall. There’s much to do.” He told her with dread. He liked being with her and yet, he could not say so.

“I understand. I shall come with you. The Dothraki have an unobtrusive fighting style, more suitable for fighting the thralls. They would only follow me.”

 _She is uncomplicated,_ he thought. The next moment he was disquieted. He couldn’t risk her, couldn’t imagine her sleeping on hard ice, cold, and surrounded by strange men. _Men’s morals run low when it comes to times of war._ He decided he would find a way to send her back to the safety of King’s Landing even if that meant he would never breathe easy again.

The doors to the Hall were near and she inhaled deeply and straightened herself before entering. She was a different person when in full view of people, he observed.

A feast was held to celebrate the return of Starks and Targaryens and to bury the proverbial hatchet between the north and the south. Daenerys offered encouraging and rather flattering words to the gathered lords and ladies who had travelled from all across Westeros. She read a message of peace and friendship from the King himself and declared the commencement of the festivities.

Jon felt strange sitting at the high table with Daenerys and Sansa occupying the centre. Bran sat next to Sansa and Jon was seated next to the Princess. Arya was outside, running with Ghost and Nymeria, she was never the one for protocols.

Due to Jon’s newly found status as a Targaryen Prince, and him being her older nephew, whether he accepted it nor not, people thought it was wise to approach him on matters of marriage alliances.

“Your Grace, House Corbray would be honoured if you considered our proposal for Princess’s hand.”

They were not the only ones that night. After a while, Jon stopped counting. Perhaps every man wanted to wed and bed the most beautiful woman in the world. Princess or not.

That did not mean he could not flex his sword hand or clench his fist under the table.

He offered an oft repeated phrase. “I shall request the princess to take your offer in her kind consideration my lord.” He spoke with so much iron in his voice, most lords returned without seeking a dance or a word with the said princess. Others, she politely declined.

When he looked at Daenerys, she looked at ease with all the attention. In that moment he knew she was used to it and would have to marry one day to forge alliances and further their House. _Their House._ He let the words linger in his mind for a bit longer than he would have liked.

Some of the lords goaded their young daughters in approaching Jon for a dance. But he politely declined. Telling them he did not know how to dance. He realised Daenerys shifted uneasy every time or just sipped her wine without blinking.

He waited long enough for men to feast on food, ale and wine, and when they were deep in their cups, he gracefully ushered Daenerys and his sisters out of the Hall.

He stopped briefly outside her chambers and said, “Thank you.” He did not know what for. For bringing him home? For bringing him to life? For offering to stay?

She smiled and spread her arms slightly, “May I?”

Jon smiled and held her to his chest. She fit so perfectly against him and, she smelled sweet. _Oh so sweet_.

Their hearts filled with an unnamed emotion.

Her cheek flushed, and a wave of crimson washed up his neck as his fingers lingered and brushed gently in the small of her back.

 _I shall see you on the morrow_ , they both said.

He returned after the guards had been stationed outside everyone’s chambers and he knew his family was safe. He was wary of the fact that some lord might take offence or consider the family’s absence as discourtesy. So, he stayed in the Great Hall until the last man had hobbled out to find his chambers. 

In his dreams that night, he pressed his lips against hers, his mouth was hot and insistent but she did not fight him and parted her lips in a welcoming moan. Jon woke up startled and could not go back to sleep again.

  *-*-* 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewriting parts of this chapter. Most are cosmetic changes or grammatical corrections. This chapter is still not beta'd.


	2. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not have done this without my beta, RubySand. I cannot thank her enough really. Any kind words I receive here, its all coz of you, RubySand. She has been an inspiration and has helped me turn my incoherent ramblings into something worthy of my reader's time. Or so I hope. :)

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”  
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

Daenerys was practicing swords in a distant corner of Godswood when Ghost prowled on her making her lose her balance and land on her butt. She eyed him in anger, “Must you always sneak up on me like this?” She dusted the snow off her palms and sleeves and sucked her thumb where she had cut herself. Ghost just tilted his head in amusement and nuzzled her.

 

She remembered another thing about Ghost. _Jon. Jon won’t be far off._

 

“You should not train on uneven ground.” Jon tried to suppress a chuckle and failed miserably at it.

 

“Where else then?” She swatted his extended hand.

 

“Winterfell has training grounds and a new trainer, thanks to you. Or have you not noticed, Princess?”

 

“I do not feel comfortable training in the yards. Too many eyes.”

 

“Arya trains in the broken tower. That should suit you.”

 

Daenerys hummed in response. “Thank you, Prince Jon.”

 

That earned her a scoff from him. “It’s Jon. Please.”

 

“Alright, but only if it’s Daenerys or Dany! Whichever pleases you.”

 

“Fair enough!” Jon smiled back at her.

 

They settled underneath the weirwood tree.

 

She pondered briefly when Jon asked her why she trained. “My brother and I have had an eventful childhood. We have been on the run for a very long time and had to learn it for self-defense really. I train because I find comfort in knowing I can defend myself.”

 

“Don’t you have armies and dragons for it?”

 

She wondered if he did not understand a woman’s fears and insecurities and her expression became stoic.

 

“I get it.” He said with a resentful sigh.

 

“You should have executed the mutineers yourself.”

 

“And what, scare you off in our first few meetings?” She pouted.

 

He did not answer. Strong, unorthodox women did not scare him.

 

“This came for you from King’s Landing.” He extended her a sealed parchment.

 

She read it carefully. “The Dothraki are on their way. Along with provisions of course. You will need to clear space for them. Forty thousand warriors and their mounts. I will fly to Harrenhal and ride with them.”

 

He nodded.

 

“Will you come with me? Rhaegal awaits you.”

 

“Another time. Let us go back inside else your guards will get flustered. And get some salve and linen-wrap on that cut.”

 

~~~

 

He waited nearly a moon before the news arrived that the Dothraki had made it to Castle Cerwyn.

 

She arrived on horseback this time, riding at the helm. A fine sword adorned her back. Her hair were braided but windswept and her cheeks were flushed with cold. When he saw huge Targaryen banners fluttering proudly behind her, it stirred a sense of pride in him too.

 

The granaries and coffers of Winterfell were full. Sansa will sleep easy, he thought.

 

He received her in the courtyards alongside other Stark family members.

 

“Prince Jon.” She curtsied.

 

“Princess Daenerys.” He bowed.

 

The next day, Daenerys found him standing in front of Lyanna Stark’s statue inside the crypts of Winterfell.

 

“I apologize for intruding your sacred space.” She whispered respectfully.

 

“You don’t have to whisper. You won’t wake them.” He smiled and whispered back at her.

 

She nodded solemnly.

 

She raised both her hands and held out a sword sheathed inside a fine-crafted and very intricately decorated scabbard.

 

“This is Blackfyre, sword of Aegon the Conqueror. It is yours now, Jon.”

 

Jon unsheathed the magnificent sword. Its blade was Valyrian steel, its grip was the finest leather he had felt under his fingers and its ivory dragon pommel was inlaid in rubies and dragon glass.

 

“I had given my word to the brotherhood of exiles and sons of exiles that I would bring them home. The men of Golden Company have received pardon on crown’s behalf. In recognition of fulfilment of my oath, their commander, Harry Strickland, has returned Blackfyre to its rightful claimant.” She said with a tilt of her eyelids towards Jon.

 

Jon raised the sword in his hand, finding its grip and feeling its weight on his arm. He saw his own reflection in the blade. His skin looked much darker, mirroring the dark Valyrian steel. The braziers lit inside the crypts made the ripples on the steel shimmer, like flames.

 

“Daenerys, I thank you for it. I really do. But I’d rather wield Longclaw. I’m accustomed to its grip and have practiced with it for as long as I can remember. I cannot accept this.” Jon said, sheathing the sword in its scabbard.

 

“Jon, there is no other swordsman worthier of it, to wield this Targaryen family heirloom. You can, and you should accept it.”

 

“Daenerys, please. I’d like you to have it. I really do.”

 

She felt a tinge of heartbreak at his words.

 

“Mayhaps, when the wars are done, we can exchange our swords. What do you say?” Jon had noticed her anguish and did not intend to hurt her. He did not understand in that moment what he was pledging.

 

“I’ll hold you to your words, my Prince. I have witnesses to your oath.” She radiated like the brightest star in the summer sky.

 

Jon acknowledged her words with a gentle smile.  Blackfyre was no mere sword to be wielded by any swordsman carrying the Targaryen name, it was a symbol of Targaryen monarchy. Jon was unsure why the sword must pass to him and not the Targaryen who sat the Iron Throne.

 

There was something she was not sharing with him. He had observed that her men addressed her as Khaleesi or Queen. But she was not wed to Viserys. At least, not yet, and he was not sure if he liked that thought. He was not sure if he wanted to ask her either, so he decided to wait until Daenerys was ready to trust him.

 

In the days that followed, a large number of Unsullied, mounted knights from the seven kingdoms, Dornish spears, and common foot soldiers, all well provisioned, descended upon the castle.

 

“We can march to the Wall.” He informed her. “You should return to King’s Landing now.”

 

“What about the Dothraki? They are quite like your freefolk and will not submit to anyone. Their allegiance has to be earned.” She remarked.

 

Jon understood the ways of the wildlings and that they follow strength. Likewise, he would have to assimilate with them and prove himself worthy if he wanted to lead the Dothraki.

 

“Will you help me with it?” Jon asked her.

 

“It’s quite simple really. You should find the burliest of them and defeat them in a combat.” She sounded almost believable until she saw Jon’s curious expression and chortled at her own words.

 

“My Princess japes.” Jon smiled, running his fingers through his curls and shaking his head in amusement. He experienced this feeling of lightness around her that had been alien to him for as long as he could remember. It was these small exchanges with her, the little caches of pleasures, that made him feel cheerful and carefree once again, even if it was for a little while.

 

“I’m sorry, you should have looked at yourself. You should smile more often, makes you look even more handsome.” She made him blush. “While I was not completely wrong, I don’t think you would need that. You are a warrior and you are courageous. They will come to see it soon enough.” She paused and when she met his approving gazed, she continued, “However, you can begin by learning their language and riding Rhaegal. Dragons signify strength, and the ability to ride and control them is the main reason they follow me really. That and the fact I treat them like family.” Dany explained to him the notion of blood riders and other peculiarities and customs of the Dothraki.

 

In the week that followed, she introduced him to the commanders of the horselords and encouraged him to interact and deal with them, with the aid of a translator in the beginning.

 

The dragons were considered terrifying beasts that instilled fear in men. To the Targaryens, they were gorgeous mounts whom they could control and bond with. She introduced Jon to Rhaegal when he shed his hesitation and expressed his desire to ride the dragon, thereby embracing some part of his heritage. Even if it had come from a place of necessity, Daenerys considered it as progress.

 

“Ānogar ānograro” Daenerys began, gently running her fingers through Rhaegal’s snout.

 

“I remember those words from when I first saw you. Is that Dothraki?” Those were the first words Jon had heard when he came back to life. Those impassioned words and Dany’s gentle touch. For a moment Jon had believed it was afterlife and he was happy to have died instead of waking up again, cold and lonely, underneath the shadow of a frozen wall of ice.

 

“No, it’s Valyrian, and it means blood of my blood.” She replied.

 

Daenerys spoke with her dragons in a voice so tender, Jon believed that was how a mother would speak to her children. Not that he would really recognize the soothing voice of a mother.

 

He snapped out of his internal musing and said, “Seven hells, Princess! Could you not teach them the common tongue?” To which Dany laughed, “Where is the vanity in that, my Prince.” She was smug at times. Dragon blood, she told him. Likely, she wasn’t wrong. “Drogon singed my clothes and hair when I mounted him the first time.” _She has a queer sense of humor_ , Jon mused.

 

Daenerys beckoned him to step closer and Jon tentatively reached out to Rhaegal, the green dragon, named for his birth father who lost his life at the green banks of the river Trident. Rhaegal let out a purr and its scales shifted beneath Jon’s palm. Jon could feel the heat radiating from its hide and the orange-yellow puff of smoke the dragon blew from its nostrils was an answer to the bone-crunching cold and the unforgiving fog of winter.

 

“Will you let me come to the Wall with you for two moons at least?” She asked him one day since Jon remained adamant about her returning to King’s Landing or at least staying at Winterfell until her presence was absolutely necessary at Castle Black. They haggled like fishwives over that matter.

 

“Alright, for a moon from whence we begin marching. No more.” Jon relented.

 

“A moon _after_ we reach the Wall.” She was not accustomed to losing an argument and he was prepared to concede more ground. It was a win for both.

 

Their journey up North was agonizingly slow and was marked by blizzards and snowfalls. Daenerys utilized the time in understanding the third head of the dragon. Jon too wanted to know more about her, but he held his tongue most of the time, burying his thoughts and feelings in the frozen landscape.

 

As they inched closer to the Wall, Jon realized his apprehension about the dragons was giving way to admiration. He understood the capricious nature of Rhaegal and the dragon began responding to Jon’s instincts without Jon having the need to command him in Valyrian. Rhaegal was less flamboyant than Drogon, he was very quiet, but nearly as dangerous. Jon could see the inordinate resemblance between his dragon and Ghost.

 

 

~~~

Castle Black had been repaired and restored before their arrival. The armory, the rookery, the Maesters chambers, the vaults and wormways had all been refurbished and stocked. The armory and the entire cache of weapons was placed under the watchful eyes of the Unsullied.

 

There were more Maesters and trainers than there had ever been in the recorded history of the castle.

 

This was all Jon had once wished.

 

Yet, his eyes held a sort of hollowness that Daenerys had not witness since they left Castle Back moons ago. Daenerys found his behavior desperate and anguished. His gaze was often forbidding.

 

The color she had witnessed on his face during their time away from the Wall was vanishing gradually, giving way to greyness.

 

“I was thinking we should move base to Queensgate or the Nightford.” She said when they were having supper at the Hall and she could not bear his distant gaze any more.

 

“Why?” He swallowed the morsel of food and asked without looking at her.

 

“Repair works in those castles are almost done.” _This place is cursed, it has made you bereft of all joy_ , she wanted to say.

 

“This is the best place to make a stand if need be. Our defenses are the strongest here.” He spoke in a clipped tone and went back to eating.

 

Daenerys’ chambers were set up at the King’s Tower. Jon took up accommodations in the Lord Commander’s tower.

 

During one of her visits, she noticed she could see the battlements and corridors of the King’s Tower from his chambers. She did not question him but he noticed nevertheless.

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way. You and those few maids of yours are the only women here.” He said brusquely.

 

“I did not say anything. You can take up chambers in the same tower if you are worried for me.” She said.

 

“No, it is better this way.” The curtness of his response along with the forlorn look in his eyes made it impossible for her to argue any further.

 

~~~

 

 

Daenerys had begun training with Jon when they were on road to Castle Black and then continued training in the well of King’s Tower once they had arrived there. He quickly realized she had no intentions of leaving. If he could not force her, the least he could do was help her hone her skills.

 

“You’re good at combat and nimble on your feet.” He told her one day when they were sparring.

 

“But?” She understood that was not the point of conversation.

 

He thought intently before speaking. “But the war is never fair. Just like real life. Your opponent knows no honor. Do not expect it from him.”

 

He practiced strikes that mimicked the butchery he had seen on the battlefield, he hacked at her with a blunt sword when she was not looking or paying attention. She held her tears when she was bruised or sore, reminding herself that she was a dragon and a dragon does not weep.

 

Fortunately, Dragons did have a keen sense of observation. Jon placed a soft kiss above her forehead one day. “Promise me you will stay on Drogon. You are a much better dragon-rider than I. Let me lead on the ground. You stay in the air and pave the way for us.”

 

“You don’t want to train with me anymore, isn’t it?” She swallowed her tears.

 

“I do. And I will. You are really good, and you are getting better. But one of us has to control the dragon and one must fight along the men. Do you understand me?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Now come help me learn how to manoeuvre my _precious_ dragon.” He grinned at her.

She shoved him playfully and they left the tower behind.

 

~~~

 

They had recently returned from beyond the Wall. Jon was abed, and Daenerys was stalking like a predator outside his chambers.

 

A plump Maester with a thick neck and large hands, wearing a Valyrian steel ring was attending to his wounds. Marwyn the Mage, they called him. He had travelled with Daenerys from Essos and was her most trusted Maester, Dany impatiently waited until he finished.

 

When they were finally alone, she yelled at Jon, “What the fuck were you thinking charging at that creature without a backup?”

 

Since the time it was discovered that the fate of thralls was tied to their master, the White-Walker who raised them, they had been targeting the White Walkers at every outing. All they needed to do was find the most ancient one and get rid of him. Sounded simple really. In his madness to end the battle quickly, Jon had chased a White Walker into a dark cave where he was attacked by an undead bear and suffered several bruises and a severe injury to his sword arm.

 

“That is some colorful language, Princess.” He winced in pain.

 

She wheeled on him and her lips missed his by a hair. Her eyes burnt like dragonfire and her breath was hot.

 

Jon licked his lips and his gaze rested in the hollow of her neck. “Dany,” His brain was muddled by the milk-of-poppy and strong-wine.

 

“What?” She glared but tears threatened to well up in her eyes all the same. She could have lost him forever that day and she was not sure how she would have dealt with that possibility.

 

He wanted to comfort her and tell her that he was alright. He wanted to ask her to stay with him.

 

His eyes locked with her wide and wild ones, and in a moment of bleary confusion, “I’m … exhausted.” Jon managed to blurt out, rolling his neck as if he hadn't been affected by her presence at all.

 

Dany withdrew from his proximity and stormed out of his bedchamber. It smarted her to think that he did not want her near.

 

The next day, a raven reached Castle Black. The King was going to pay a visit to the Wall.

 

The castle was abuzz with activity and expectation. There were talks of the gallant King riding into war on the back of his dragon and vanquishing the Great Other with a swing of his sword. And then there were other whispers, gossips of impolite and unkind nature that indirectly found their way to Jon’s ears. It offended him, but Jon could not find it in him to discuss any of it with Daenerys.

 

A fresh batch of provisions arrived at the Wall before the King did. The best wines from Pentos, Dorne and the Redwyne cellars along with varieties of meats and spices.

 

Viserys Targaryen arrived at Castle Black riding the gold and white dragon, Viserion.

 

He possessed classic Valyrian coloring, silver hair and lilac eyes, much like Daenerys’. He was gaunt and shorter than what Jon had expected. He looked weary but wore a polite smile on his face. When he stood in the courtyard, everyone gathered inside the castle knelt in the snow on one knee. The two kingsguard who had arrived earlier took their place behind the king.

 

As agreed before, Jon greeted him first. “Your Grace, Castle Black is yours.”

 

After exchanging pleasantries, the king requested his sister and his nephew to join him for a private conversation after the feast.

 

They found him in his chambers in the King’s Tower later that evening.

 

He hugged Daenerys and spoke affectionately with her, “You look pale Dany. Have they not been feeding you here?”

 

“I am fine brother. It is just that you are seeing me after a long time.” She replied kindly.

 

Viserys turned around and extended his hand. Daenerys looked at Jon’s confused expression and tilted her eyes towards his stretched arm. Jon shook hands with the King, “Your Grace.”

 

“You may call me uncle if it pleases you, Prince Jon. We should have found you sooner but, as my sister would have explained, we were in exile and running like fugitives for most of our early lives and had not known of your existence until quite recently.”

 

“Thank you, Your Grace. It is quite alright.” Jon replied with slight hesitation.

 

Thereafter, they spoke briefly about their past, about general well-being and the war efforts.

 

When Jon and Dany bid him good night and suggested they take leave, Viserys requested Daenerys to stay back. Jon waited until Daenerys blinked her eyelids and nodded at him. He turned around and briskly walked out of the King’s solar.

 

“I should be here, by your side and not sitting in that preposterous chair.” Viserys complained when they were alone.

 

Dany scoffed amusingly. “You know I am a better rider than you, brother, and Jon is a better sword and commander. We don’t need you here.”

 

“That hurt sister. It really did.” He sulked playfully and offered her a goblet of wine.

 

“You know why you have to be there brother. There is no one else I trust with the affairs of the Crown. And, my place is here.” She spoke gently this time and added as an afterthought, “At least, until the end of this war. You should not even be here, this far away from where you wanted to be, and you have done more than enough on the whims of a girl.”

 

“Not just any girl. My sister. Your whims led us to hatching three dragons from stone eggs when I wanted to sell them and live out our lives in a far-off corner of the world. You are a dragon and your dreams come true, Dany.”

 

“And do not forget, if not for your guile, we could never have acquired the Unsullied and everything else that followed.” He added thoughtfully, “If you say our brother wanted us to find the third head of the dragon, I believe he did. And from what I have heard of our nephew, it was worth it.”

 

Viserys took his goblet of wine and stood in the open window of his chamber, overlooking the yards. He noticed a scuffle, but it died out as hastily as it had begun.

 

“Tell me more about him, the kind of man he is. Things that may have escaped the Spider’s web.”

 

“He is dutiful, kind and honorable. He is good at command, men follow him because they believe in him. There is nothing vile about him, brother. He is destined for great things, you’ll see.” Jon was everything she had expected and more. So much more.

 

“And your blue rose at the Wall, sister?” He smiled teasingly.

 

“I did find him too, for a while.” There was anguish in her voice now.

 

“And?”

 

“I do not know. I fail to understand him. Sometimes, he is within the reach of my fingertips, other times he is far off and distant, lingering in the shadows and barring my entry to his world. I wonder if it was my folly, chasing a dream, or if it was the Gods’ way of bringing us here to fight this darkness. Who knows? I may have been in love with a dream.” She felt rudderless once she had admitted it.

 

“What if there is no place for me here?” Tears rolled down her cheeks and Viserys gently touched his lips to her forehead, murmuring consolatory words before she broke into sobs. All evidence of joy had drained from her.

 

“There will always be a place for you Dany. You’re a Targaryen, you’re my sister. You can always go back with me. You are still the Queen of the Bay of Dragons.”

 

“I know brother.” She smiled kindly.

 

“If you wish, you can take the Crown for yourself, Dany.”

 

“I do not want the Iron Throne. I would rather live with my only family who accepts me. The Crown was always his. He may not accept it at the moment, but I am convinced our Promised Prince will rise to the challenge.” Dany’s voice was laced in concession and pride in equal measure and she received an understanding nod from Viserys.

 

“Allow me to walk you back to your chambers.” Viserys offered her his arm and Dany stepped forward in acceptance.

 

When they arrived at her chambers, Ghost nuzzled Dany and sprinted down the hallway.

 

“This is Ghost, Jon’s direwolf. Jon insists I let him stay here.”

 

“I see.” Viserys continued carefully, “Dany, I think he may need more time to get over the demons of the past. I understand what you must be going through but you will need to be patient with him. Clearly, he cares for you.” He dipped his head in the direction of hallway where the direwolf went. “Mayhaps, you must talk to him?”

 

That night she dreamt of her brother Rhaegar, his slender fingers playing the silver strings of a harp, a pale skinned, dark haired woman wearing a crown of winter roses smiling kindly at her, a blue winter rose growing from a chink in the Wall of ice, a cream and gold dragon and its silver haired rider crashing into a frozen lake of ice.

 

She woke up startled, draped her furs around her, and her feet took her to Jon’s chambers.

 

~~~

 

Jon exited Viserys’ solar and found an unpleasant feeling bubbling inside him, like a vicious snake slithering inside the belly. Whether it was the wine from the feast or something else, he did not understand. The King had been polite and respectful, and there was nothing Jon could really complain about.

 

Jon was walking back to his chambers when he overheard some sentries sitting by the fire in the yard, keeping themselves warm with fine ale and bootless chatter.

 

“What do you think the king is doing here?” one of them asked.

 

“Dragons do what they do.” This one sounded as if he was privy to some scandalous royal secret.

 

Another one made an overt gesture by grabbing his groins and cupping them indecently, letting out a guttural sound.

 

The sentry was yanked from the floor and brusquely pushed to the wall of the battlement behind him before he could utter another word. Jon held him with one hand around his throat. “Ride south and never return, or I’ll have you thrown to the dragons.” He snarled through pursed teeth, his fist clenched tight and shaking in anger, barely a whisker away from the man’s jaw. Jon’s eyes mirrored the red of the coals in a nearby brazier. There was an inferno burning inside him that was threatening to consume him and everything around him.

 

The other sentries bowed and scuttled away as fast as they could, apologizing profusely.

 

Jon was drowning himself in ale in his solar when he saw both Daenerys and Viserys walking towards her chambers. He decided he needed to get away from there. He saddled his horse and rode out of the castle.

 

His horse had been trotting aimlessly for some time when he noticed Ghost circling him. _She has sent ghost out of her chambers_. The thought was unbearable for him. Jon tipped his head forward, pulled the reins and dug his heels hard in the girth of the animal. He decided to do something he had never contemplated doing all his life, previous as well as this.

 

~~~

 

Daenerys enquired about Jon’s whereabouts when she could not find him in his solar. His guards informed her that he had last been seen riding out of the castle in the direction of Mole’s Town.

 

She returned and stayed up until dawn, looking for any indication of light seeping out of his chambers. That was not to be.

 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is struggling with PTSD and occasional bouts of insecurity. PTSD is not widely understood even in current times, let alone in the medieval world. Unfortunately, Dany too does not understand it completely and Jon often shuts her out and doesn’t communicate. Hopefully my readers can see that in my writing. If not, I left a note, didn’t I? :)
> 
>  
> 
> Excerpt from the next chapter: 
> 
> In another life, he had taken a vow. But now, he could stay and yet, he did not wish to. He once feared siring a bastard and now his dreams were full of silver haired children of his own blood and flesh. When he could have everything he wished, life was slipping away from his fingers and he could only watch it unfold as some mute spectator.


	3. The Dark Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, RubySand, my amazing beta! 
> 
> I'm splitting this chapter in 2 parts because 4k words feels a bit too lengthy to me when i read stories on phone.
> 
> Also, cuz I have an attention span of a goldfish.

**The** **Dark Prince**

Jon pulled up the hood of his cloak when he reached a wooden shack with a red lantern hung over its door. He found his way down, through the tunnels, into a deep cellar filled with the raucous laughter of men and women. The air smelled stale and pungent.

 

He occupied a solitary table far from the entrance and dropped a silver coin on the table. A serving girl approached him at once and bent down seductively to pick up the coin. She was a buxom beauty with blue eyes and dark hair. Jon did not pull back his hood. She returned with a pint of ale and rubbed herself sensuously against his arm, whispering some vile nonsense in his ear. The woman left him alone when he did not stir and ceased her hand that was wandering towards his crotch.

 

In a distance, Jon noticed a young golden-yellow haired girl, naked from waist above, sitting in the lap of a customer and another man touching her most inappropriately. She was pretty, and she was eyeing him.

 

In another life, he had taken a vow. But now, he could stay and yet, he did not wish to. He once feared siring a bastard and now his dreams were full of silver haired children of his own blood and flesh. When he could have everything he wished, life was slipping away from his fingers and he could only watch it unfold as some mute spectator.

 

His hand twitched and he instinctively reached for Longclaw, but he realized he had left it back at the castle. It wasn’t just a sword, it was his honor. Honor he had pledged to Daenerys once the wars were done. He may not see that day but the least he can do is keep his honor intact.

 

He dropped another silver coin on the table and dashed out of the inn.

 

They had many names for him over his more than one lifetime. Bastard of Winterfell, Black Brother, Crow, Snow, Lord Commander, Black Bastard of the Wall and now they called him the Black Prince. He was destined to forever remain in the black shadows that had surrounded him all his life.

 

He slowly trotted back to Castle Black, absorbing the blackness of his surroundings, getting engulfed by the night and the dark forests and an ominous feeling of doom. The hope of winter mornings and the cheer of winter sun were lost to him.

** 

That night, Daenerys had come to Jon’s chambers where she found from the guards that he had last been seen riding out of the castle in the direction of Mole’s Town. She returned and stayed up until dawn, looking for any indication of light seeping out of his chambers. That was not to be.

 

A day later, Viserys Targaryen returned to King’s Landing and Daenerys felt all alone.

**

 

The Hall was used for planning and council meeting when there was a large group of people. Shieldhall was converted into a dining hall in order to accommodate the large numbers of fighting men.

 

In the days that followed, Jon and Daenerys kept to themselves. They both willed themselves to hate the other. In their eyes, the other had been unfaithful.

 

Jon sent Edd in his stead to find a sparring partner for Dany. She politely declined Edd’s offer saying she would ask Grey Worm, her Unsullied commander, to find her a sparring match.

 

Jon either ate his meals with the night’s watch men he knew from before or by himself in his solar.

 

They found excuses to avoid each other.

 

The war council was engaged in another heated discussion. Everyone had an opinion on what they considered the best strategy for defeating the white-walkers.

 

“Your Grace, my Lords, let us take a break and we shall continue this tomorrow.” Jon sank in his chair in despair. Nothing seemed to be going the way he wanted. They had won several battles and yet they were not close to finding that one magic spell that would end the war forever. The wraiths and their masters kept appearing battle after battle. They had killed three white walkers and large hordes fell with them. Yet, many escaped or were in hiding. Jon knew it in his bones that it was not going to be easy.

 

“Prince Jon, might I have a word with you?” She asked him as the other lords were leaving.

 

“Aye.”

 

“Not here. I was hoping we could speak in private. You solar?”

 

He cocked his head to one side and sent away his squire and the servants waiting on them when they reached his solar. He removed his cloak and arranged it on the back of his chair.

 

“Wine?” He asked.

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“Jon, you have been distant. Is there something I must know?”

 

“No, Your Grace.”

 

“Your Grace? I thought we agreed on Dany.”

 

He pressed his teeth hard and tightly clutched the back of the chair till his knuckles went pale. His face was empty when he turned around to look at her.

 

“You can leave for King’s Landing now. I think we can manage well enough from here. Should we need aid, I’ll petition the King.” Jon said when he had calmed himself enough to speak.

 

Daenerys had known whatever she had thought about him, about them, had been undone in that one fateful night. Later, as his silence became unbearable, she reasoned with herself that it was something men do, to find comfort. There was a reason why pillow-houses and brothels mushroomed near war zones, why she saw camp followers even at this accursed place they called the Wall. Morals had no place during wars.

 

Her life had been precariously hanging by a thread of hope that mayhaps it was all a nightmare. Jon would never do something like that, _that is not the man I know_. She had hoped she still meant something to him. Jon had cut that thread with his words in that moment.

 

“You do not get to decide on my involvement in this war. I shall leave Castle Black after our current mission and camp at Queensgate if you so wish. I hear it is garrisoned by wildling spearwives.” She steeled herself. She would not give him the pleasure of watching her fall apart.

 

Jon swallowed something in his throat before asking, “You were saying?”

 

“Viserys and I will leave for Essos after this war.”

 

Viserys’ name cut like shards through his skin. What was he even thinking when he dreamt of silver haired children. In all the stories, fair maidens never marry black princes, they marry silver dragons.

 

“What about the Seven Kingdoms?”

 

“The Crown was always yours. Viserys was a mere custodian till you came to accept your heritage. Everything will be left in order and the documents will be stored safely in a vault at King’s Landing with facsimiles at the Citadel.”

 

“Why should there be a new king? I do not wish to take the crown.”

 

“Viserys does not wish to stay. We came here for someone.” Her eyes roved over his face and between his dark irises, before she lowered her gaze. “Apparently there is nothing but loss and heartbreak for our family here. We wish you good fortune and would be happy if you fulfilled your sire’s and your mother’s wishes. If not, you can accept the kingship and help transition the power to whoever you think would be a good ruler.”

 

“Did you find that someone?” Jon asked nervously shifting his weight from one foot to other.

 

Daenerys shared with Jon her vivid dreams and her life journey, including the details she had omitted telling him the first time she had met him. Dany shared that his sire, Rhaegar, had asked her to find him, the third head of the dragon and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. And that Rhaegar believed that Jon was the prophesied Prince from the thousands of years old ancient texts, who would vanquish the darkness.

 

She still left out the part about the sweet-smelling blue rose that she often saw in her dreams.

 

“I did not really know you. Only the things Lord Varys had shared about you and your honorable upbringing. I did not know if you would accept your heritage or if you had grown up hating the Targaryen name.” It was a disturbing thought for her and it was agonizing for her to consider such harshness towards her family.

 

Jon empathized with her now that he knew what had transpired during the rebellion.

 

“We wanted to see our brother’s son reinstated to his rightful place. We owe this to Rhaegar. Dragons do not always find strength in their numbers; their strength lies in their accord.” She said twining her fingers to keep herself composed.

 

“When are you going to wed Viserys Targaryen?” He sighed inwardly and held his breath. He had to hear it from her.

 

“What? No!” She blinked in surprise. “I am glad you are beginning to think like a true Targaryen. But no, he is only my brother. I tell you this in utmost confidence, he has affections for a girl named Sereneah. She is the daughter of an impoverished merchant from Lys and was sold into slavery. She is Viserys’ intended now.” She said apprehensively, not knowing if she was right in telling him.

 

Jon pulled his hair away from his face and breathed through his lips. He looked at her intently and asked, “What about you? Are you betrothed to someone too? Is there a lover you left behind?”

 

“Why do you ask?” She hated his smugness in that moment.

 

“Why else must you leave?” His heart was beating inconsistently as he waited for her response.

 

“What do I have here?”

 

“A Kingdom. You can be their queen.”

 

That was not the answer she wanted to hear. “I am already a queen and there is a place that I can call mine. I would never trade that sense of belonging for any other kingdoms, _Your Grace_.” She put a divide between them with those two words.

 

“You could have a family here.” He wanted to bridge the distance he may have created due to his own anxieties.

 

“Who would ever dare to love a dragon.” She said in a voice so small and laced with so much melancholy that he wanted to scoop her in his arms and kiss her breathless.

 

Before he could act on his instinct, she spoke again. “Prince Jon, should you seek to visit Mole’s Town again, you must take the guards with you.” It hurt her to say it.

 

For the longest time, she had tried to make peace with what she perceived may have happened there and later, as days went by and the more she observed him, she did not believe he could do that. _He may be cold and distant but a philanderer?_ She was torn. But she was hurt too, and if he could ask her about other men, surely she can remind him of his own trespasses.

 

“What? It is not what you think.” He had not been aware if she knew what happened that night or how much of it she knew.

 

“It matters naught what I think. It is not my place to tell you what you must do with your life. You may as well seek such services in your chambers if you wish.” She poured all her anger and distress in those softly uttered words. “I should leave.” She would either rage or break-down if she stayed back.

 

She stormed out too fast and too unexpectedly. He could not gather his thoughts or ask her what she meant. He knew, but he still hoped she would ask him and give him a chance to deny it.

 

His vision was unfocused and distant and the only sounds he could hear in the moment were the sounds of his sinking heartbeat and crackle of fire in the hearth.

 

He must follow her and alleviate all her misgivings about him, that he has never been with another woman in his new life, the one he owed her.

 

To his shame, there was some truth to what she had said. His feet froze in that moment. Hadn’t he run away from her to find comfort between another woman’s legs? What can he say to her to make this alright? How would he react if she had allowed another man to touch her and then stared at their naked frame? He smashed the jar of ale on the wall of his solar with all his might and let her walk away from him.

 

* * *


	4. Back To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely, love blossoms.

**Back To You**

 

Jon often wondered what had attracted him to her. Was is the color of her eyes and her silver hair? Her smile, or her femininity, or her alluring beauty? That she was dangerous with a sword and lethal on her dragon? Was is the fire in her veins? Or was it because she brought him back to life and gave him a reason to continue living?

 

 _If her blood sings to me, should my blood not hum to hers, the least?_ He had to ask her to stay. He shall offer her a reason to stay. Jon heard a cough and shook himself out of his thoughts. “Prince Jon?” They were in a war council.

 

Daenerys could feel his eyes on him and that made her fluster. _Why was he doing this when he did not want her to be a part of his life?_ She felt restless and it vexed her to think she let him hold so much power over her. She kept her eyes downcast or looked past him for she feared he could see the things she had imagined in her head or hear her thoughts. It was a matter of time before she would get away from his world.

**

The battle they had been extensively planning for, was a carnage. They had been lured into a trap and then surrounded by wights and dead mammoths and rotting giants. Their forces were getting scattered and slaughtered until Daenerys burnt a large chunk of the horde and created a path ridden in flames for them to escape. As they fell back to the Wall, Jon sighed in relief when he saw Drogon fly past them and above the Wall.

 

Jon was in his solar, washing the caked, black blood and rot of the undead from his body when Tormund marched inside. Daenerys had dismounted from Drogon and charged at a white-walker standing atop a hill, watching the mayhem his thralls had unleashed. He had aimed a spear towards Jon who was fighting on the floor of the valley. “We all tried to scream and warn you Jon, but our sounds died in that chaos. She saved you and saved us from getting over-run by the wights by killing him.” Jon did not believe what he was hearing. He cared naught for his life or for the Gods forsaken war in that moment. “Jon, the lass is fine, just some injuries to her arm and ribs.” Tormund had brought her back to Castle Black on his destrier.

 

Jon was at her door by the time Tormund finished narrating. He waited for Maester Marwyn to examine her and tend to her injuries. “How is the Princess?” Jon asked him impatiently when he was done.

 

“Her Grace’s body is bruised and has frostbite on the wrist from the graze of the ice creature. The salves and the potion I administered will allow Her Grace to sleep through the night and heal her from within.” The Maester bowed and showed himself out.

 

Jon’s head tilted in one direction and his mouth was agape. It was incredulous for him to even think that the creature had gotten so close to Daenerys.

 

“Get out.” He ordered everyone out of her chambers.

 

The sight of her, lying bruised and limp in the bed, was like the twist of steel to his heart.

 

“We had an agreement. You were supposed to be up there and not in combat with an Other.” He said waving his hand upwards, towards the sky.

 

Daenerys did not answer.

 

He seethed through his teeth.

 

“I made sure Drogon left. I understand that would be worrisome.” She spoke with calm dignity, not allowing him to see through her pain and fears. “You may leave now.”

 

He pressed his lips in a thin line and looked around her chambers. Shoving his anger down to the depths of that dark place where all his vices resided, he dragged a chair next to her and gently took her hand in his. Levitating his thumb over the salve stained frost-bite marks that tainted the flawless skin of her wrist, he despairingly imagined all possible scenarios and reasons why the mark was there in the first place.

 

Daenerys did not know if she was too tired to pull her hand away or if she wanted him to hold her. She slipped into a state of deep slumber.

 

Jon was with her when she woke up the following morning. He was slumped in the chair and had wrapped both their hands with his furs. His legs were sluggishly stretched on the floor.

 

For the longest time Daenerys had convinced herself that she and Jon had wandered too far away from each other and would never be able to find their way back, but the warmth of his hand and his presence next to her stirred all those feelings that had been lost to her.

 

She memorized the fall of his eyelashes over his cheek, contours of his face, his hardened jawline, his unruly curls, the rise and fall of his chest, the shape of his legs, and captured that moment in her heart, for perpetuity.

 

She was watching him with her mesmerizing doe-eyes when he stirred from sleep. Love and desire washed over Jon in equal measure and he shifted in his chair. “Daenerys!” He sounded relieved. Jon kissed her forehead and earnestly sent for the Maester and her handmaidens.

 

Daenerys also memorized the pout of his lips, the way his body hovered above hers, and his musky smell.

 

**

Jon helped her through recovery, they dined together more often and were getting back to some semblance of normalcy in their mutual dealings when one evening Daenerys knocked on his chamber doors.

 

Something about her words made his heart ache profoundly painfully. She was leaving for Queensgate.

 

Daenerys stood at the edge of his solar when she informed him that her belongings had been packed and she would leave for Queensgate in two days time.

 

“Is this another one of your japes? Why would you do that?” He had lost his temper when she finished talking. In his mind Jon had made efforts to go back to the way they were before the wretched memories of his previous stay at Castle Black had consumed him.

 

“You’re the one to ask? Must I remind you that this is what YOU wanted and now you have the audacity to question me?” She seared in anger at his indignant remark. _How dare he? Not once he had asked her to not leave!_

 

Jon took tentative steps towards her, a smoldering heat arching through his veins, burning his skin and his existence. Fire was _his_ that night, for he was fire too. He moved close enough to see the lilac of her eyes and then, he kissed her.

 

Her mouth was soft and her full lips, supple and smooth. Hesitantly, she parted her lips for him and he claimed her mouth and her tongue with his, blood bustling through their cheeks and ears, making them numb to their surroundings. Daenerys clutched his doublet tighter than the spikes of Drogon in her fist.

 

When they broke their kiss to catch their breaths, Daenerys looked up at him and her lips curved upwards. In that moment Jon went still and realized what he had been afraid to admit. He was hers, he had always been hers for as long as could remember and she was his.

 

His lips fell back on hers and his hands traced her sides, her breasts, her behind.

 

Daenerys snapped out of her dizziness and stilled him when his hands wandered below, between her legs. “Jon, stop.” He looked at her bewildered, “Why?”

 

“Will you regret this come morrow?” She steeled herself.

 

“No. Never.” He held her arms but moved a step back so that she may see the truth in his eyes.

 

“You must think again Jon.” She politely told him. “I have never been with another, I have never wanted anyone if you ask me, and I do not wish to be with you if you think you may come to resent me.” She held her gaze as she spoke.

 

He looked at her in what looked like disbelief. He was only worried if she did not consider him worthy of her virtue.

 

“You thought I was a wanton woman who sleeps around, didn’t you?” Tears pooled in her eyes as she yelled and pushed him with all her strength. _All those questions about having a lover, about her brother, of course he thinks so low of her,_ she thought _._

 

Jon felt horrified at her words. He stumbled at first but swiftly regained his footing and grabbed her and firmly held her wrists so that she would calm down. She still struggled, and he did not know what to say to her. _Can she not listen to my heartbeat and hear her name,_ he thought. “Dany, hear me ...”

 

“Mayhaps, now that I’m a maiden, I’m fit to bed the Prince. Isn’t it?” she thrashed in his arms and sobbed in anger.

 

A terribly maddening rage obscured Jon’s senses on hearing those words and he loosened his grip around her. “Don’t fucking say that! You insult me. And you make me feel I have failed you. Do not belittle yourself!”

 

He tried to dull the displeasure in his voice. “You mean more than anything in this world to me Daenerys. Maiden or not.” He then held her face between his palms and craved her eyes upon him. “And if you do not want me, all you need to say is _no_.” Jon let his hands fall to his sides and held his breath.

 

Daenerys never really understood why he became distant on occasion. Whether he found their predilection unsavory and was too prude to want a relationship with her, given their blood bond? Or, was he too depraved and she would not be enough for him? She did not want to believe the latter because she had never really seen or heard anything unsavory about him. Yet, that one nebulous night still lived somewhere in the murk of her awareness.

 

“Jon, what about other – women in your life?” She finally asked him.

 

He reached for her, “Look at me, you know about my past. I do not think of her anymore.” He inhaled sharply and gathered his thoughts before choosing his next words. “There will not be anyone else. Do you hear me?”

 

She believed him when he said, “I did go to Mole’s Town that night. I didn’t --” his voice trailed “Nothing happened. I came back for you. You have to believe me. All my life, I’ve never been with a --” He could not even bring himself to say the word. In her heart, she always knew.

 

Daenerys placed her palms on his chest, fidgeting with his doublet at first, she then steadied herself and looked into his eyes, “I cannot stand you pushing me away while you brood or regret _this_ , for what we are, and for whatever happens between us. I would respect you and your ways. But I won’t survive it.”

 

It was neither pledge nor worshipping that Dany sought from him. Just an acceptance of what they were and an assurance that he would not make her regret that night.

 

She was reluctant when he curled one arm around her waist and the other below her neck and evened her to his body. “I’ll let you go if that is what you want. But know that I need you.” He splayed his fingers on her and clutched her tighter when he spoke that last word. “I would never, ever, leave you, Dany.”

 

She stopped pushing him and looked him in the eye.

 

Jon went out and said something to the guards. When he returned, his grey eyes looked a rare black.

 


	5. Dreams And Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you RubySand for constantly telling me that the chapter was really good but I can write better! Over 5 revisions later, I see what you did there!!

  

Jon dismissed his and her guards and not a few minutes passed before Dany heard Ghost padding up the stairs and lodging himself outside of Jon’s chambers.

When Jon turned around to look at her, he saw his own need reflected in her eyes. He also noticed her hesitation underneath it all. Summoning all the restraint he could, he reached for the flagon at the far end of his desk. He poured wine into two silver goblets and gently pressed one in her hand.

She accepted the goblet from his outstretched hand when Jon asked her, “Wouldn’t you like to share with me?”

They sipped wine in an uneasy silence and Jon couldn’t stop himself from steeling glances at her soft lips and red cheeks.

“Jon, I --.”

“Should you choose, I’ll escort you to your chambers myself, Dany. You should not have anything to fear or worry on my account.” He smiled genuinely.

She opened and closed her mouth several times before he could hear her murmurs. “I meant – I don’t know anything.”

He tried to look into her violet eyes, but they were downcast. There was neither grin nor vanity on his face, only a silent understanding of what she was trying to tell him. After a moment’s hesitation, Jon kissed the corners of her lips and laced his fingers through hers. “It is cold in here. Come.”

She waited for him at the edge of his bed, fidgeting with the pleats of her skirt as he kindled the fire in the hearth.

She chanced a peek in his direction, only to find him already half way near her. The instant their eyes met she dropped her gaze, blood racing to her cheeks, feeling childish all over again, to be flustered in his presence. She was grateful when he stepped closer and broke the awkwardness.

“If I asked, will you let me kiss you?” He said brushing his thumb over her cheek and his fingers woven in her hair.

“You already did.” _What am I supposed to say? I was always yours to kiss?_

“I want to try again. With your permission this time.”

A demure smile adorned her cheek as her eyes found his lips in anticipation.

Jon reached out and circled her waist with his arm, gently tilting her face to him and swiping his wet tongue over his lips, he lowered his face on hers and claimed her mouth with his own, kissing her long and deep, slow and sweet, a single kiss filled with a thousand promises. It made her feel dizzy in her head and wobbly on her feet, but he was there, as if he knew, already holding her steady in his arms. She eased into his touch as their mouths continued dancing in rhythm.

“So? Was it any good?” He asked without slackening his grip around her.

“I will never forget it.” She smiled as a wave of crimson swept over her.

“We can try some more times and you can tell me which one you liked the best.” With that, he lowered his face on hers, one more time.

His heart was hammering in his chest and her stomach was fluttering with a thousand butterflies as they gasped for breath. “Daenerys, teach me everything about you, and I’ll tell you all about me, yes?” He smiled stroking her face between his palms and consumed her in his caresses and kisses to her brow, her temple, her cheeks, tip of her nose, corners of her lips, her chin, descending to her neck and gently moving to rid them of everything that stood between them; boots, furs, leathers, woolens.

A part of him wondered how it would be if they were wed first. They would say the words before the Gods, there would be a feast and later, the women would shout crude japes before ushering him in their bedchambers and the men would --. The thought was not as desirable anymore and Jon snapped himself out of _that_ musing. _There is not going to be any bedding when the time comes_.

“Is it alright if I --?” he asked, lifting his mouth from her throat and tugging at the edges and neckline of her gown after freeing the irksome knots beginning from her neck down to her midrib. She hiccupped and breathed out a shaky ‘yes’.

Daenerys surrendered in his strength when he easily lifted her from the floor and kissing her earnestly, laid her down in his bed.

Out of nowhere, a strange dread took her. She sighed and clenched her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable when he climbed into the bed with her; recalling tattles of her handmaidens and ladies, wondering if he would take her like a mare, the way the Dothraki did or if he would climb on top and claim her virtue.

Her eyes fluttered open when she felt his hands framing the sides of her slender neck, thumbs softly caressing her jaw as he kissed her and whispered, “You’re beautiful Daenerys.” She gave in to the demands of his hot and needy tongue and sighed in relief, internally chiding herself for forgetting that Jon was not like other men.

He palpated her in ways she had never heard before. He whispered loving words and generous praises against her ear and kissed her with vigor and want. He also kissed her with love and understanding.

Jon’s vain smile was hauntingly rare when he touched her all over. He stroked her with his deft fingers and tongue, exploring the curve of her breast with his hand, rolling its pink tip between his mouth, flattening and curling his tongue over her skin, and when she moaned in abandon, his hand dipped between her wet folds. He found a torrential spot between her legs, creating a symphony with his finger and thumb moving in tandem, strumming strings inside her that she did not know existed. “Let it go” he rasped when she stiffened.

Unable to stop herself from feeling the rapture in his touch, she arched into him and clenched and cried his name, finding purchase when he added another nimble finger to the one already inside her. She went fervid for him when Jon lifted his head from her breasts and growled ‘ _Dany’_.

He wasn’t just hard, he was aching for her. When her fingers ardently roved near his groins, he hoarsely moaned her name, letting her know how much he treasured her touch. In that moment of heady arousal, he took her small hand in his and curling her dainty fingers around his shaft, he moved her wrist slowly but firmly. He watched her with his half-lidded eyes as she continued stroking his length back and forth, long after he let his own hand go off hers. The sight of her parted lips, her sweetly agonising moans, and her steady grip on his arousal were torture and bliss at the same time. He feared he might spend on her hand; he said as much to her, making her blush vibrantly, and begetting a puddle of desire in her groins.

Powerless in holding himself anymore, he determinedly flushed his body above hers, wedged his urge in the cradle of her legs and pressed it against her unyielding opening. He kissed her again and murmured, “Whenever you are ready.” in a voice so hoarse and an accent thicker than she had ever heard from him.

His hand circled under her back and up her shoulder, grasping her at the base of her neck, gently stroking her there with his thumb. When he kissed her where he willed and ceaselessly dragged the blunt head of his shaft between her wet folds, hitting her nub, she forgot everything but for a raw want between her legs, and firmly curled her arms around his back and pressed her wet lips to his sinewy shoulders.

She had anticipated the pain, and it came when Jon curved and molded his fingers to the shape of her arse and putting his weight behind the steady push of his hips, fully sheathed himself inside her core. They gasped together, and she winced, screaming ‘ _Jon’_ and mercilessly dragging her nails through his skin. He hissed _‘Dany’_ , relishing his torture, hoping she left marks on him, scars he would love to bear the rest of his life.

Her renting was sharp and swift, and it soon gave way to a bubbling need in the belly sparked by Jon’s slow, long strokes within her. His face was buried in her neck when she purred ‘ _Jon’_ and and gently rocked her hips against his, veering his movements within her from cautious, long drawn strokes to rapid snapping of his hips towards her core as she threw her head back and weaved her fingers with the curls at the back of his head. His lips found a carnal spot between her ear and neck and his raw, desperate groans were unlike any sounds she had heard in her life, making her core quake and seize him tighter.

Overwhelmed with the stretching and filling of her pink flesh, the burning sting, and the pleasure it all brought, Daenerys cooed and writhed underneath his heaviness, clutching and sucking him in, seeking all that he had for her.

“Gods Dany – I can’t --” Jon rasped, as his solid arm tightly curled under her waist, his torment feverishly chasing him through the woods.

He could no longer bind himself in tangles of forbearance. She crazed him, turned him feral with her sighs and moans. Canting her hips to him, leaning up and throwing his head back, a few rough, erratic thrusts later, he filled her with everything he had and then sunk his face between her breasts.

Glowing brighter than the fire emanating from the hearth, her messy hair splayed around her shoulder, lips raw and red, she looked beautiful and vulnerable. She was his; without demands and pledges, beyond the needs of flesh or the burdens of duty, in a way no one had ever been. He loomed above her, brushing his fingers through her hair until their breaths became steady, “Dany, I didn’t -- did I hurt you?”

She shook her head without looking at him but the red staining her cheeks and a small smile gracing her lips set his heart to peace.

They lay curled on their sides, silently looking at each other for a very long time, neither knowing what to say.

She was watching him intently, her lips kiss-swollen and deep pink, her beautiful, callow skin tender from the dragging of his beard and sucking of his mouth, he could not imagine what she was thinking. “I’ll do better next time, I promise.” His face flushed hot in admittance.

She blushed and rolled into his embrace kissing him fully on his lips, intending to tell him that he was the most bewitching man in all realms, that she loved his lean and hard muscles under her touch and that _it_ was so much better than what she had heard from her ladies in Essos, _it_ was perfect. Simmering under his steely gaze, her breath got caught in her chest and she only bit her lip. _Someday I would tell him all of that._

He pressed kisses to her lips and neck, a strong, calloused hand drawing circles beneath her arse, pulling her legs against his own. He shivered and held tightly to her, to his life, as she leaned in the curve of his shoulder. Jon marvelled at how well Daenerys’ soft curves fit against his hard muscles. “You were made for me.” he whispered, his breath damp and warm on her skin.

He lovingly cradled her face in his chest as her tired body rested against his.

*

Dany was tossing and turning restlessly in the sheets, looking for words, when Jon blinked his eyes open amusedly and slipped his hands between her legs. She made no effort to restrain him and instead pulled her lower lip beneath her teeth to keep herself from making noises.

She almost chastised him when he rolled her on her side, wedged himself between the soft insides of her thighs, and slipped inside her core. He brushed her hair aside, baring the nape of her neck to kiss her there, over and over, while skimming his fingers over her body from her breasts to her hips and back again. She shuddered when Jon dragged his lips and teeth over her neck, losing himself in her, whispering vile and wicked words against her ear. Words about her womanhood, and all the other immoral things he would do to her when she was not so ‘raw’. She almost chastised him for inciting a wanton need for him in her, for drowning her words with his kisses and for taking her hand and moving her fingers above her core when they lay like that.

In truth, she had liked all those things he did, and he had sent a wave of gooseprickles through her skin with his whisperings in the blackness of night about all the sinful things he wanted to do to her, with her.

She was smiling when Jon curled behind her and she could tell exactly when he dozed off because she had been enjoying the circles he was making on her chest.

*

It must have been the hour of the wolf when Jon felt a tightening in his chest. The same old amorphous dreams. Daggers in the dark, blood frozen on ice, a flaming sword and black armour, rows and rows of icy blue eyes peering at him from the dark, and worst of all, her. Daenerys’ sweetly innocent face awash with tears and her hollow eyes hurt more than daggers to his heart. She had become a part of his dreams and his Gods forsaken nightmares too.

When he woke up troubled with his nightmares with a painful ache in the back of his head, he walked right into his dream as he could feel the softness of her bare ass in his hand and his erection poking between her legs. He almost wanted to slip himself in the crevice between her legs when a spark of guilt flashed before his eyes. In that moment, Jon abhorred the way his body had responded and himself too, for wanting to use her to tide over his agony.

He cautiously withdrew himself from her and covered her with his furs for more warmth. He dressed up, threw the hood of his cloak over his head and silently left the chambers, grabbing Longclaw on his way out.

Jon found himself standing atop the Wall, inhaling the freezing airs of the North and letting it fill his lungs. He was a son of North, a boy born in summer, reborn a man in winter. He was named for the snow that gently kisses and engulfs the lands in its embrace. The irony that his life was, it had metamorphosed him into hard ice. He wished to go back to simpler times. _But which ones?_ The times in which he was an unwanted bastard fit to be sent to the Wall or the times when he wanted to do right by his people and was rewarded with death? His life had never been simple and all his memories were poisoned.

He needed to make new memories, he could make them with Dany. She was the fire to his ice, summer to his winter, exuberance to the gloom that was threatening to consume him. He needed her for his survival. He could only hope she needed him half as much.

*

The mattress under her felt colder than ice and the mess he made between her legs was beginning to dry. Daenerys could hear the howling of the icy northern winds through the closed doors and windows. She felt a compelling need to curl up into Jon and share his warmth. Despite his declarations of being Snow and having ice in his veins, he always felt warm to her. She recognised the fire in him though he often rejected it.

When she reached for Jon, he was not there. She looked around the room in panic. Ghost was sprawled near the hearth and was watching her with his crimson eyes. Longclaw was missing from where Jon had left it in evening and his cloak was missing too. Jon was safe though; Ghost was quiet and the dragons were not raging.

She sat up, frozen with grief, _mayhaps we can never have a future._

She laced her gown as best as she could and threw her cloak over her shoulders. Ghost looked at her with sad, lonely eyes, or she saw her own loneliness reflected in his. She could not tell.

*

When Jon returned he saw her sitting by the hearth, her hand grazing through Ghost’s soft furs. He took a place beside her.

“Did I do something Jon that you had to leave in the pitch of night?” She kept her eyes fixed on the fire.

Jon ran his fingers in his hair. He did not know how to say it, but he had to try. For Dany, for himself.

He took her hand in his. “I have nightmares Dany. Terrible dreams of death and ruin that won’t leave me. I did not wish to strain you with my burdens for you are the only thing in my life that is good. Gods help me, I won’t forgive myself if I sullied you with my terrors.”

Dany understood what he meant, she had been chased by dreams and nightmares all her life and was no stranger to the burden of destiny that rested on Jon as well. She urged him closer and leaned her face in his palm. “I have my dreams and my nightmares too, mayhaps not as bad as yours but they are real, and while some of my dreams keep me close to the loved ones I have lost forever, others don’t let me sleep through the nights.” She placed her hand on his chest and exacted a promise from him. “Jon, promise me you will always wake me up when your nightmares torment you.” Jon sealed his promise with a pliant kiss and leaned back, peering into her eyes. _Lilac eyes that would one day be my children’s_ , he prayed

“Come to bed, Dany.” He beckoned her with a warm smile.

*

The next day, Jon wrote a message in his own hand and dispatched it to King’s Landing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iia, I hope I haven't disappointed you! *holding breath & fingers crossed*


	6. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the ironies of his life and this place, Castle Black. He had once come here to escape life, a boy looking for redemption from his bastard identity. It was here he was named the Lord Commander, murdered for doing what he believed to be the right thing, returned from the hollows of death, and found new meaning to his wretched life in form of the most loving woman in all realms. Jon wondered what this place would bring him next. It terrified him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a time jump of nearly two months between the previous chapter and this.

**Together**

*-*-*

Jon and Dany had been away for a week, visiting the other garrisons across the Wall, listening to the demands and requirements of the soldiers manning them. Dany was the first one to return and Jon returned a day later. They both briefed the Unsullied Commander and the Dothraki horselords on their sojourns at the various garrisons and later supped with them. They would meet the Westerosi lords and knights the following morning.

 

Dany came to him in the late hours of the night. She watched from the bed as he approached her, gloriously naked under the light radiating from the hearth. “Did you miss me?” She asked blushing red under his gaze, not too different from their first night there. He was hard as steel, and she raked him with her eyes. “What do you think, Dany?” He crawled into the bed with her, curling one arm underneath her neck, the other just above her hip, drawing her to him, molding himself with her soft curves. If she found his heaviness uneasy, she did not complain. Her breath was warm against his neck as he kissed her crown, her temples and nipped her earlobes.

  
 

He didn’t have too many words for her, but he knew how to make her feel loved when they were together, and his fathomless eyes that were once a mystery to her, she could now read them from afar; they were a window to his soul and he had let her in. His longing for her was transcendental, just like her beauty. Without her, his thoughts often wandered to the places where she might be, and the pang of separation made his bones aches in anxiety.

 

His lips burnt as he kissed every sliver of her skin, lingering longer where he knew she would want more, whispering words of longing and desire. She sighed, arching and weaving her fingers in his hair, pulling him into her as he coursed below. She grasped his intent and moaned hoarsely, “Jon Targaryen, come up here!” He smirked and his grip around her thighs was strong and bruising when he parted her legs and probed her with his knuckles, tasting her with his tongue, savoring her and inhaling the heady smell of her arousal. The rasp of her name, the unforgiving ministrations of his tongue, and the drag of his beard between her legs brought about a violent shudder of pleasure as she fell apart, closing her legs around his head.

 

He tormented her until her sighs turned to pants and then moved up, entering her swiftly, making her cry out in ecstasy and anticipation. “Gods, you’re insatiable.” he teased her. She bit his lips between her teeth and retorted, “Would you have me any other way?” Her words made him delirious with need and he assailed her like a storm, drawing her tighter, muffling her cries with his kisses and she drenched him in her heat. She was too much; too beautiful, too innocent, too delicate, too warm, too loving, too fearless, too fierce, too willful. She was too much for him, and unable to hold himself, he frustratingly pulled out of her and urged her onto her knees. “Daenerys, tell me when to stop, love … ” He drawled and with a low growl, slid into her, vacillating her with his strength and then quickly steadying her, snaking one arm under her hipbone and the other pressing in the small of her back. He took her from behind, coaxing keens and whimpers from her with an urgent snapping of his hips. There was naught that could keep him from spilling through the seams. She gave another exquisite shudder around his length, making him lose all restraint, and he couldn’t tell if it was _that_ or her loud moan that did him in. For all he knew, he could have come undone when he saw her after days of separation, standing in the castle training yard, breathtakingly beautiful, turning heads all around her but having eyes only for him.

 

“Gods be good! I love you so much, Dany and I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”  He panted harshly and admitted one more time as he slumped by her side.  She loved him and his warm, strong presence. “I think, I know.” She grinned. “I love you and I missed you too, Jon.” she said, hugging him tighter and kissing him in a way, he felt dizzy all over again.

 

Jon snaked his arm around her and pulled her close, drifting into a dreamless sleep and she smiled, taking comfort in the rhythmic beats of his heart.

 

The following morning Dany swiftly dressed in her gown and furs, loosely braiding her hair and gathering her hair-pins, her small-clothes and everything else that belonged to her, she tiptoed out of Jon’s chambers. She never straightened the sheets or arranged the furs in Jon’s personal chambers. Her sweet smell on Jon’s person and the rumpled sheets were her reminders and those were for Jon, she always left them for Jon.

 

Jon blinked his eyes open looking around for her and then frustratingly slumped into the creases she left behind on the sheets and inhaled deeply. An unbridled growl escaped his chest and the sweetness she left behind brought a smile to his face.

 

He had overslept, and she was long gone from his chambers, likely sending instructions for his steward not to wake him.

 

Daenerys had called a council meeting without informing him first. Plausibly, he was the last one to be informed because when he reached the Hall, the murmuring ceased, and everyone turned around to look at him, promptly rising on their feet. The Hall was unusually full, it was not just their commanders and knights, he saw new faces as well. Many a shivering high lord who probably had not picked up a sword in over a decade and white cloaks bearing royal Targaryen seals on their chest who for some reason kept trailing him, albeit from a distance. He had to ask Dany to get rid of them.

 

Jon apprehensively reached the dais and met Daenerys’ eyes with an anxious gaze. Her soothing smile erased all his worries. She was her brother’s trusted confidante in all matters of politics of the seven kingdoms. It had to be pertaining to the affairs of King’s Landing because he had cleared all communication on matters of military soon after his return.

 

She held a parchment in her hands and with a dip of her eyelids, sought his permission to speak. When Jon nodded, she slipped another sealed parchment towards him.

 

_Your Grace Jon Targaryen,_

_It will be an honor to give my sister’s hand in marriage to a man such as you. Together you shall become the greatest rulers the Seven Kingdoms and the Bay of Dragons have ever known._

_~ Viserys Targaryen_

 

Jon stood rapt in awe at those words and their significance.

Daenerys informed the gathering that King Viserys Targaryen had called the Great Council that ruled the last Crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen’s only surviving son as the true claimant to the Iron Throne. The Seven Kingdoms had a new King.

 

The gathered lords, knights and everyone else in attendance, drew their swords and knelt in fealty when Daenerys Targaryen proclaimed Jon the King of the Seven Kingdoms. She read a long list of titles in a regal vein. _Son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name, the Prince that Was Promised, the Resurrected, the Son of the Dragon, the King of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and the Protector of the Realms of Men._ “I could go on.” She whispered when she proudly placed a simple circlet made of iron and bronze, set with squared rubies, on his head. “No need.” he murmured, graciously accepting Blackfyre when she ceremonially placed it in his two hands. Jon went rigid, shook his head in disapproval and pulled her arm when she gestured bending her knee and pledging fealty to him. When she secretly smiled for him, the way she smiled _only_ for him, he throbbed and ached in yearning. ‘ _Soon’_ he whispered to himself.

 

At the Great Council’s behest, Viserys Targaryen would continue to act as the Regent until the new King returned to the halls of his ancestors. The ravens had flown all across Westeros and all major Houses knew of the decision before the news reached the last beacon of the living.

 

Dany hosted a small feast in celebration of Jon’s ascension to his rightful place. “My Lords, on behalf of House Targaryen I thank you for braving the cold and journeying this far North to pay homage to your King. Enjoy the feast Sers.” Everyone representing a House of any import wanted an audience with the new King. Jon petulantly listened to their words of flattery, pledges of fealty and from some fearless ones, offers of betrothal for the unmarried King. It irked him to think that those men were willing to look past his and Dany’s intrigue. Or that anyone would believe either he or Dany would consider marrying another. Away from the privacy of their chambers, Dany was much restrained in her affections and insisted on propriety, but Jon knew for a fact that it was something that would be hard to miss if someone tried to look close enough.

 

Ghost refused to leave his side and Jon stroked its furs when he was momentarily alone. “I had a sword and now a crown in your likeness.” Ghost looked at him with knowing eyes and Jon smilingly shook his head, _‘You always knew, didn’t you?’_ Jon downed his wine and excused himself. “Lead the way, boy!” With that he followed Ghost as it padded towards the King’s Tower.

 

“Why did you leave so early?” He asked upon entering Dany’s solar.

 

She promptly dismissed her handmaidens and turned around to him, lovingly combing her fingers through his curls and admiring the Targaryen crown resting elegantly on his head. “My King, you look bewitching!” She whispered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his jawline.

 

She always knew how to pique him with her touches and her banter and he was convinced she oft did it on purpose and rather enjoyed his torment; not that he would ever complain. “None of it. Tell me, why weren’t you with me?” He took her wrist and held it against his chest.

 

“The lords wanted to meet their King. It was not my place nor my time.” She gazed at him with adoration.

 

“You’re my life, aren’t you? Your place is always by my side, Dany.” he replied gathering her to his chest.

 

When she smiled, he drew her on her toes and kissed her with want, forgetting that he had come to return Blackfyre, leave the crown with her and most of all, to ask her since when she had _known_. A whimper came out of her chest and her hands flailed against his rigid muscles. Jon understood her torture, for he felt it too; the impatient _need_ to feel her naked against him. Leaving a trail of torn and discarded clothes in his wake, he led her to the inner chamber.

 

Jon managed to push her back into the bed just enough to vest his knees between her eager legs and sheath himself inside her. She twined her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his thighs and moaned his name like a chant. She could not have been closer even if he tried, he still tugged her into him and quivered. “Dany” he rasped in the curve of her shoulder and thrust vigorously inside her. When he steadied his weight on his knuckles, her hands slipped from his neck, and it was easy for him to lose control and come undone when she dragged her nails on his arms and moaned ‘ _Jons’_ and ‘ _yesses’_ and ‘ _don’t_ _stops’_ against his chest.

 

As they lay there, panting and heaving, she turned crimson thinking of his guards outside their door. “Jon, the kingsguard –”

 

“Not here, I dismissed them.”

 

“What about the lords --” Without finishing her thought, she shook her head, bit the inside of her cheeks and lowered her face in the crook of his arm.

 

He heard her unuttered words. “Fuck ‘em.” He said, tightening his embrace and lowering his lips on hers.

 

He was stroking her hair as she languidly leaned into him, tracing her name on his bare chest. “I was not raised to be a king. At best, I could have been the lord of a holdfast.” He suddenly spoke up.

 

His words saddened her beyond compare and she knew that it wasn’t easy for him to share the hankerings or the resentments of his past life. “You’d do your duty, isn’t it?” She already knew he would.

 

When Jon nodded, she stretched up and tucking his curls behind his ears, kissed him on the cheeks.

 

“Jon, you were born a King. You were Rhaegar’s heir, this is what your mother would have wanted for you.” She reluctantly moved away from his embrace and sat facing him, closing her legs together, pulling them to her chest, looking ravishing beyond words. “Your brother named you his heir and you would have been the King in the North after him. You’ve always been the chosen one, my love. Your sires chose you, you Lord Commander chose you, your Black Brothers chose _you_ when they needed someone to lead them, the Dothraki, the unsullied, the Westerosi knights, and all the fighting men here have chosen _you_ to lead them, and once this war is won, you’re the King the realm will choose.” She looked into his eyes and hoped that he saw what she sees in him.

 

She was the only calm in his tempestuous existence. He tried to read her face through his soulful eyes. “You haven’t said anything about the one who matters the most to me.”

 

“Who would that be?” She said, narrowing her eyes.

 

“Don’t – not now.”

 

Dany smiled and took his hand in hers. “I don’t want a choice, only you.”

 

Jon breathed like a man who’d forever been holding his breath under water. “I never expected to come this far in life, never thought I’ll have someone to call mine. Without you, the crown and the kingdoms mean naught to me. It took me an entire lifetime to find you, Dany -- never leave me.” With that Jon pushed her back in the bed and kissed her earnestly. He fisted her hair and pulled them back, exposing her pale neck to him, kissing her there and moving down, torturously slow. ‘ _Never’_ she whispered and her breath hitched in her throat.

 

“Who am I to _you_?” He pulled himself away and spread her with his firm hands, holding her thighs right under the bend of her knees and the junction where they joined together, swept open for the pleasure of his eyes.

 

“You’re my King.” She purred and smiled slyly as he moved inside her.

 

“No.” He asked again letting go of her legs, kissing her, and flipping her on top, without losing his seat inside her. Dany placed her hands on his rigid muscles and bent and kissed him on the chest. She looked into his eyes, “Jon. You will always be _Jon_ to me.” Her voice was tranquil, and her touches were languorous. She was a beautiful dream who could make him forget himself or that they were on cusp of a war that could consume everything in its wake.

 

He smiled at the sound of his name rolling over her lips and grabbed the soft skin of her bottom in his rough, demanding hands as she ground herself on him. “Would it be selfish of me if I told you that you belong to me and no one else?” He husked, moving his hands possessively along her womanly shape, marking her with his lips. “No, it isn’t. It’s what I want.”, she bit her lip and threw her head backward, matching his thrusts with her grinding. Dany whimpered as her walls clenched tightly around him and on feeling his seed bubble through his shaft, she ceased moving and slipped him out of her with a plop, making him growl in desperation. “Danny..” he slurred when she took his length in her hands and all Jon could hear were the rapid beatings of his heart and the soft, wet slurps of her mouth sliding over him. The growls that escaped his chest weren’t human, they belonged to a beast, the one only she could arouse. He blurted vile words and curses as she turned him into a heap of desire with arousing strokes of her hand and unwavering bobs of her head. With a loud grunt and her name on his tongue, he spent between her lips and she slowly crawled atop him, with a triumphant look and a lopsided smile.

 

She sprawled across his chest, and Jon wrapped one arm around her waist with his cheeks pressed to her crown and his other hand twined in her undone hair.

 

*-*-*

 

_Arya had arrived at the Wall with a small retinue of northern lords, leading a contingent of soldiers when Jon decided to rotate duties and temporarily relieve some of his men who were too sick to stay._

_“You did not have to travel with them.” Jon had pointed out when they were alone, sharing food and mulled wine, and exchanging stories from their childhood. Jon did not want another one of his family living at the Wall. He wanted his sister to be safe and away from the ice monsters. When she didn’t relent, Jon narrowed his eyes and scrunched up his forehead before leaving her chambers. ’Perfect! Now I have the two most stubborn women in seven kingdoms and beyond to worry after.’_

 

A day after his coronation Jon hesitantly left Arya and Dany on their own at Castle Black and traveled south. On arriving at Winterfell, he waved away the formalities and informed Sansa that he wanted to speak with her about something.

 

He gathered his family and trusted friends around him and informed them that he intended to wed Daenerys. Sansa was dumbfounded and asked, “Why?”

_Where do I begin?_ “I am marrying her because I want to, Sansa. I love her.” He smiled assuredly. “You’re the lady of Winterfell, this is your home. If you allow, I wish to marry her here, at the Godswood.” Sansa reminded him that this was his home too. “You will always be a Stark to me.”

 

Jon thanked her and went down to the crypts to pay his respects.

 

He sat at his mother’s feet relaying everything he could, like a son would share with his living mother. “She was here, mother. Do you remember how beautiful she is? You would have loved her, I think.” He smiled at his own words. “I am going to ask her to marry me and if she agrees, I will marry her here in the Godswood, by the heart tree, where you can witness our vows with your own eyes. I have the Seven Kingdoms and she is still the most precious thing in my life. You are with the Gods, mother, will you watch over her for me?” His voice broke in that moment and he swallowed a sob before standing up and meeting his mother’s sad, lonely eyes. “Mother, tell _him_ I love her and will be a good husband to her, I will not shame you both. You know it, right?” He paused for a moment, believing he will get an answer and then turned away with a solemn heart and an unsaid prayer.

 

Jon returned to Castle Black and went straight to Dany’s chambers. She was looking exceedingly beautiful, sitting by the hearth, her hair unbound, her eyes closed and her hands resting on Ghost’s mane. She smiled and turned around when she heard his footsteps.

 

Jon briskly walked towards her and bending down on one knee, reached to take her hands in his and gently pulled off her moleskin gloves. He curled his fingers around her wrists and kissed their inside. The touch of his callused hand freezing cold from the ride and the weight of his loving eyes made her shiver. ‘ _Jon’_ she whispered, and her heart missed a beat.

 

Jon removed something from his cloak and placed it in her hands. “I should’ve made a crown for you, but I don’t know how, and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help.” Daenerys blinked her tears and wiped them with the back of her palm. Jon had brought her blue winter roses from the glass gardens of Winterfell. “I picked all the thorns. Look!” 

 

She dropped to her knees in front of him and kissed the perforated tips of his fingers. “Why --?” She knew, and she didn’t.

 

“Marry me, Daenerys Targaryen.” he said, “I will be forever yours, will you be mine? Will you spend your life with me and do me the honor of raising our children with you?” His smile was mischievous and loving, his eyes were steely and grey, and his promise was true. When Dany teared up and nodded, Jon lovingly stroked his thumb against her moist cheeks and possessively captured her lips in his own.

 

As they lay in the afterglow of their coupling, Jon covered them both in bed-furs, savored a whiff of her lustrous hair, and mused aloud, “You do know you will wake up next to me every day and you cannot be with any other man once you marry me?”

 

She bit her lips to not let out a chuckle wondering how long he may have waited to say it to her. “Who says?” She playfully peeked into his eyes.

 

“I do, your future husband.” He quipped raising his brow, visibly jealous, and she felt his hold on her flesh turn harsher than before.

 

She bore into him with her fiery gaze, “You’ve ruined me for any other man, my King, my future lord husband.”, and with one hand placed against his heart, she slipped the other between his legs, “You were made for me, my love, just as I was made for you.” She nipped his lips between her teeth and sucked them till he growled. He let her toy with him and his heart for a while and then his gaze turned dark. She crooned, and he captured her lips, kissing her ‘til she mewled and writhed and gasped for breath.

 

*-*-*

 

Jon had returned from Winterfell at the heel of a terrible blizzard that engulfed the lands in the following weeks.

 

Once their betrothal was formally announced, Jon started waking to the glorious sight of Dany blissfully sleeping next to him, curled into his body and sharing her warmth with him. It made no matter whether she had flailed wildly underneath his weight, or if she had thrust her chest in his bearded cheeks while riding him. They always woke up the same, Dany nestled against Jon, her hair sticking on his face and his fingers woven with them.

 

Jon woke up to her agonizing moan of discomfort that day. He panicked at the paleness of her skin and furrowed his brow in distress. “Dany, is everything alright?” He sat up urgently and followed her when she pushed him away and ran towards the privy. She emptied the contents of her stomach in the chamber pot and heaved and panted restlessly. Jon helped her rinse and wipe her mouth and scooped her up in his arms to carry her to the bed.

 

She stopped him from sending for the Maester saying it was the wine they had consumed the previous night that was causing it. She would see a healer later.

 

She looked fatigued during the council meeting but somehow drudged through the day. She ate little and asked Jon to leave her alone that night. He was adamant that he was not going anywhere. “Are you saying you will leave me be in sickness?” She did not argue with him and for once, Jon was shamefully grateful for whatever was causing that change in her.

 

A similar wave of nausea hit her the following morning and then the next.

 

Jon had summoned Maester Marwyn privately and had spoken with him when Dany evaded seeing the maester.

 

Jon ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed her back comfortingly before saying, “Dany, we can get married in the sept here and then you go south, go to Essos if you can. You require care, you shouldn’t stay here any longer.”

 

She pulled away from his embrace and questioned him, “Why would you say such a thing now of all times? We’re so close to ending this war, Jon.”

 

“The Gods of the living have forsaken us, Dany! This fucking war will never end.” He ruffled the beauty of the moment in his anger. This was supposed to be a good omen, a wish fulfilled, a prayer answered and yet all he could feel was a sense of dread compounded by his sudden inability to breathe.

 

Jon composed himself and lowered his eyes to her belly, giving her a small, cautious smile.

 

“No, you’re wrong about it.” She left the bed and went and stood at a distance, holding a small cushion against her abdomen. “And stop staring. It is impolite and savage to look at a woman like that.” The cushion flew towards Jon.

 

Jon was grateful to see her return to her fierce self. He had begun hating the quiet and docile Dany in just three days. He winked and retorted, “If I remember correctly, Princess, you quite enjoy it when I act like a savage.”

 

“You’re --” She blushed as he walked up to her, pulling her to him and smiling slyly.

 

“Shameless? Aye, that I am; only for you.” Jon held her in his arms, kissing all over her beautiful face. “I’m sending for the maester, hmm?” Dany nodded, tightened her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She did not really need a Maester to confirm what her dreams were already telling her, but she had been afraid of the future, of what Jon would do when he found out. She would not leave him alone in this war, or ever, no matter what.

 

Jon summoned the maester and she smiled demurely after Marwyn left, answering the question in his eyes with a soft flutter of her eyelashes.

 

Jon gently drew her to him, holding her like a flower, fearing she might break in his grip. “Say it to me, Dany.”

 

Tears rimmed his eyes when she smiled and said, “I carry your child inside me, Jon.” He leaned his body to hers and kissed her fiercely. She instinctively eased in his embrace, her hands gripping at his tunic and she kissed him back with a desperate need making them both tremble in unison.

 

*-*-*

 

_Jon and the Night King came together in a rush of fire and ice. Jon’s blade was burning bright, alive with fire and the Night King’s was lucid as glass and alive with blue light._

_He heard Dany’s scream as a storm of ice shards blew across the grey sky._

_“Jon”, Dany called out to him. A rotten hand took her by the wrist and her eyes turned cold, and frosty blue, the blue of dead._

_“Don’t leave me! You promised, Dany!” he screamed and fell backwards. A cold, white shadow stood above him as his blood froze and only cold flowed in his veins._

 

“Jon, _Jon_ – wake up!”

 

He was thrashing in his bed and woke up with a turmoiled scream caught in his chest. He found her holding him tight, combing his hair with her fingers, whispering promises in his ear. “I’m here. I’m here with you.”

 

“No, you shouldn’t be. You have to go. Leave! Now!” He pleaded, taking her in his wide, terrified eyes.

 

“It was a bad dream, Jon. It did not mean anything.” She tried to calm him.

 

They had argued over it almost every day. Dany tried to tell him that his nightmares were manifestations of his worries and that they meant nothing. Jon insisted that his dreams were a warning. The storm that raged between them was icier than the one ravaging the lands.

 

She had once come looking for him, the broken man who had been taken by the eternal loneliness of death, and she had breathed life in him in more ways than one. He was stronger when he was with her. But now his nightmares had returned, and this time it was not just Dany’s hollow eyes and tear streaked face, he saw her in a pool of blood or with eyes cold as ice. He could not bear to lose the only thing that was holding him together.

 

“Listen to me Daenerys, you should not be here. If anything were to happen to either of you --.” That he would burn everything to ground if fate took her away from him, was left unsaid but she saw it in his eyes, the fear and the rage.

 

She covered him with furs and curled herself around him, kissing the top of his head. It wasn’t unreasonable stubbornness that drove her, she had made a promise to herself that she would never leave Jon alone, she had to be there, to help him, to see this war come to an end and then go wherever Jon wanted her to go with him. No thrones or kingdoms compared to what they discovered with each other.

 

“Jon, I cannot promise you that I won’t die. I could die in a battle or I could die birthing our child.” He tried to stop her from uttering such ill-fated words, but she took his hand in hers and requested him to allow her to speak her mind. “What I can promise is, I shall fight everything in my path to live for you. Don’t send me away, and if you want me to turn my back on our people, you will have to come with me.”

 

She understood him more than anyone else in his life had, she also knew that he would never forsake his duty. He was tempted to ask her if she cared naught for their child. He choked back any unkind words and left the bed. He was steadfast in what he believed he must do. “I wished to marry you at the Winterfell Godswood, your brother deserved the honor of giving you away, but I will apologize to him. We’ll say the words of the Seven if the storms do not lull before I ride beyond the Wall.”

 

She winced. “You’re cruel to say such a thing, Jon. If you think that the only thing your child needs is a name, then so be it. I’ll do as you say.”

 

Her words stung, but he would not yield if that’s what it took to keep her safe. It would not serve any good if he told her that he was scared, and that it was his one last wish to call her his wife. “Three more moons.” He turned to her and met her gaze. He needed her to understand him and not squabble over it. “You shall leave in next three moons whether this accursed war ends or not.”

 

He shook his head in misery when she looked away from him, “Do I have no say in any of this?”

 

Her eyes were painfully stoic, and she did not respond.

 

Jon left the chambers wordlessly.

 

He picked up two blunted short swords from the armory and waved them, slashing through the air to get a feel of their weights and find their grip. With a slight of his fingers he asked the soldiers practicing in the training yard to come face him. “Which one of us?” someone asked. “Any. All.” He did not look at them, just kept slashing his swords in air.

 

Two men approached him, and he slashed to their right and then left and right again, holding back the other two with the tip of his second sword pointing dangerously in their direction. Had it been real swords, there would be blood and bodies lying all around him.

 

Daenerys anxiously watched him from the corridors outside her chambers. In her rush to get to him, she threw his cloak over her sleeping robe and was running towards the steps when Arya stopped her midway, “He worries for you. He is the same person who raised a wildling army to attack the most formidable castle in the North, for a girl he had _heard_ was his sister. At the time he was a mere Lord Commander of this scattered group of thieves and robbers, fettered to his vows. Have you any idea what he would do for _you_? Or rather, without you?”

 

He grew more violent, kicking their lower leg if someone came too close, tackling opponents on the ground with his shoulder blade. He picked up a shield from the ground and slammed it into one of the men who tried to attack him when he was fighting off others. Rhaegal roared menacingly and circled in the sky above the castle and Ghost growled and bared his fangs by Dany’s side.

 

Daenerys took in Arya’s words and thanked her. She met him in the yards, waving everyone away with the slight of her hand. “Fight _me_ , Jon.”

 

He threw the swords at her feet and huffed in ager, “There’s no winning in fighting you.”

 

She smiled meekly as Jon took her hand and walked her back inside in silence.

 

She inhaled exasperatingly but there was concession in her voice. “I – I am scared. What if our child’s fate is same as ours?” Jon stood frozen, unable to say anything as tears rolled down her cheeks. “It was grief that took them both. _Grief_ ; not the Targaryen seed or the birthing bed. I will not lose you and I will not suffer your absence; do you hear me, Jon? Don’t you see it is _you_ who will keep me alive?” Her last words held a desperate plea.

 

In that moment Jon understood her fears for their babe and for what the future held for them. She was being strong for the both of them and how could he ever begrudge her for loving him?

 

He was breathless and there was a tightening in his chest. He cradled her face in his palms and looked her in the eye. “No, no – It won’t happen, I won’t let any harm come to you both. We will live and give our child a life better than ours.” Jon swallowed a lump in his throat when she embraced him and lowered her face in his warmth. He held her tightly in his arms and admitted, “I’m scared too. I ask you to marry me not for the child you carry, or the name I want to give them, marry me for it is my wish to call you _mine_ in eyes of Gods and men. And I’m sorry, Dany. I’m sorry I cannot offer anything more than this wretched place and myself to you. But I’m here for you, now and always.”

 

“We will always be together, Jon.” She spoke so solemnly, it tore his heart.

 

“Aye, always. You’re all I have, Dany. My love, my heart, my peace, my hope, my savior in these dark times, mother of this child of mine and as many more you shall give me. Gods know you’re mine in my bones and soul but soon you’ll be my wife, my Queen.” He smiled. There was more than one way of becoming the King she deserved. He would fight her fears with her. “I’ll keep you and our babe safe, my love.” he said pressing kisses to her crown with a mix of conviction and anguish. He was not sure what kind of safety he was offering her _there_ , at the most dangerous place in the world, but this he knew, anyone who sought to harm her, would have to go through him and his sword first.

 

*-*-*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful beta RubySand! Her little notes and corrections are a blessing! All editing mistakes are my own. Also, I keep tinkering with the story and so I take the blame for everything that doesn't make sense here.


	7. War and Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding, a war, a birth.

**War and Peace**

 

As the thick blanket of the winter fog faded under the afternoon sun, Winterfell appeared in a distance like a grey puff of dragon’s breath. The clouds of smoke escaping from the chimneys and the yellow-red fires burning in the Winterfell courtyards, mellowed the visible harshness of the bitter winter the North had been braving, rendering it a beautiful hue of colors.

 

Jon reached his arms around the barely visible swell of her belly that he oft found so inviting these days, he couldn’t stop stroking it when he was alone with her. Lifting her slender arm from Rhaegal’s spike and pressing his lips against the inside of her wrist, he asked “Are you ready to spend the rest of your life with me, Dany?”

 

“I cannot wait” she said, turning her head, taking his chin and kissing him on the lips. Jon nuzzled her hair, resting his head in the curve of her neck like Ghost would and inhaled a stream of crisp winter air.

 

As Rhaegal lowered its wing inside the courtyard, all Dany could ask was to share a warm bed with Jon and a cup of scalding hot tea or mulled wine that would melt away the chill that had frozen her lungs after a long, incessant ride from Castle Black to Winterfell. A bitter, ice laden wind had whipped at her face although she was safely tucked between the two strong arms of the man who would soon become her husband.

 

The naked winter trees lined the Godswood, along with an array of candles and lanterns illuminating the path to the ancient heart tree. The freezing chill in the air turned the fallen leaves to crisp, crunching them underfoot as Dany’s brother led her towards the weirwood tree where Jon waited for her, holding an anxious breath of air inside him.

 

Jon claimed Daenerys as his wife in the eyes of Gods and men that night.

 

Their coming together was written in stars and their union was forged in ice and fire. It had not been an easy journey so far, and he did not expect it to be effortless in near future as well, but when they looked into each other’s eyes, they knew that their love would endure, and they would always be together in this life and beyond.

 

“For the life of me, I did not understand why I came back. Now I know.” Jon whispered as he lowered his lips on hers.

 

“I love you, Jon”

 

“I love you too, Dany.” He said.

 

“How much?” Dany smiled mischievously, ignoring the curious eyes of their families and other attendees on them.

 

He wanted to make pledges like the knights in old Nan’s tales did, thank her for giving him a life he dared not dream, love he never knew could exist in one person, but what he felt for her was beyond words.  “I could say I love you more than life, Daenerys. Or that you mean the world to me. But you know I’m not a bleeding poet and even if I were, I don’t think my feelings for you can be caged in words.” He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs and smiled, “I will spend each day of the rest of our lives showing you how much you mean to me and mayhaps, one day you would understand the love of this fool of a man you married. It’s a promise.” With those words and another lingering kiss, Jon encompassed Daenerys in his arms as the snowflakes danced their way down from the skies in celebration of their union.

 

Their wedding feast was not opulent. Just their families and a few lords who could make it all the way to Winterfell in that weather. When he curled his arm around her, his fingers gently grazed above her womb. The thought of her swollen with his child had begun to mystify him. It wasn’t the most uncommon thing for most men, but Jon had not even dreamt that day would ever come in his life. He liked looking at her, touching her in the knowing that she was his, only his, and that together they would bring a new life into this world.

 

Daenerys was an alluring mystery for most people around her and Jon knew how they looked at her. When they weren’t shamelessly staring at her, they watched her from the corners of their eyes. It was in those moments that lust rolled through him like a dull ache in the pits of his belly, ushering strong desire to carry her away and possess her like no other man could. It made him hard, it always made him hard and he had now accepted his unfettered response that once troubled him. She was his and for better or for worse, he was the man she had chosen for herself. He just smiled and adjusted his breeches, waiting for the feast to get over.

 

*-*-*

 

Surviving the Great War was something Jon had never contemplated. He had known for a long time that he would be the one fighting this war and likely die one last time, taking down the Night King with him.

 

“The Night King is close to finding the Horn of Winter that has the power to summon and control Ice Dragons that roam the White Waste.” The Three Eyed Raven forewarned them. “You and Daenerys must march forward and meet the enemy in its territory before it is too late, or there would be no lands left for the living.”

 

“We need Viserion. The Ice Dragons are much larger than the fire dragons and combined with the Night King’s fell ice magic, there is no telling what it might be capable of.” Jon insisted. Dany explained that Viserion was smaller and the gentler of her three dragons and it has never fought beyond the Wall. “It won’t end well for Viserys.” She sadly narrated her dragon dream to Jon. Jon nodded in resignation and gave the marching orders.

 

As the living marched deep into the frozen tundra, the wights and the White Walkers were never far, clinging to their heels, nibbling on the edges, delaying their march towards the enemy heartlands. They hid themselves by day, but the white shadows always returned with darkness and night.

 

Jon’s best hope was to defeat the undead before they could claim his most loved possession. That hope soon dwindled as they fought their way ahead and the Night King evaded them at every encounter.

 

In those weeks, at the zenith of winter, a madness overcame him. He barely slept and spent most of his time either planning for war or fighting with savagery. All of his nightmares were one by one unravelling before his eyes and he could only watch it helplessly. He had vowed to keep Daenerys safe, but she was right there, amidst the savage war that would haunt them the rest of their living lives.

 

“You will lose your mind, my King.” She jested, interrupting his long hours of silence and reverie.

 

“Aye, then no one would doubt my blood.” He laughed it away, pulling her into his lap.

 

 _Madness to love and madness to protect what’s mine._ He often reminded her.

 

He hated himself when he saw her suppressing her hunger, sharing their meagre food reserves with people around them and never having enough to eat. Jon dipped the hard bread and salted meat in hot water and offered her, “Eat Dany –” He feared he would break down before her one of those days.

 

“No. I don’t like the smells. You eat, I’ll take the bread.” She said, scrunching her face as if she were feeling queasy.

 

Jon knew that her nausea had long gone, and she was only trying to save food. The hurt and shame was too much to endure. “I won’t eat if you don’t. So, decide what you must do.”

 

In the end, the living had vastly thinned the ranks of the undead and Jon knew it in his bones that the Night King would show himself at some point. He prayed to any Gods who would answer his prayers to end the war before it was too late.

 

Jon stood atop a frozen plateau and looked towards the unending stretch of plains, the lands that laid barren and devoid of life. The only form of life was the one the living brought with them, men and their mounts and a woman keeping it all together for him, and in turn, for everyone who still breathed. The Gods had forsaken those lands and sent them in a deep slumber. His only hope was that underneath it all, life was hibernating, just so.

 

It was hours before what Jon considered to be the final battle between the living and the dead. A meagre tent with handful of furs and hay, and a few red coals in the braziers were all he could offer her in what could be the last night of his life. But he needed to remember why they were there. He needed reminding and he needed it for her and for himself.

 

Jon mapped the contours of her body one last time, stroking her lightly, memorizing her beautiful face, absorbing her in his senses, running his fingers along her pregnant bulge, whispering words full of hope and expectations of a bright future, for her, for his child. Should he fall, he did not want her to remember him as some sullen bastard.

 

“Do we have a name for our babe?” He sheepishly asked her because he wanted to know by what name his blood would live on. _You are all that will survive of me when I am gone._ “No, we don’t. You will give him a name when she is born.”, she smiled and molded into his body. “Her?” Jon asked as his heart filled with glee. “Or him. I don’t know. We shall find out together, isn’t it?” That was all the hope he needed in that frozen wasteland.

 

When they walked out of the tent, neither looked back, and carried the other encased in their skin.

 

As he had expected, the Night King appeared, mounted on a large Ice Dragon whose breath was cold enough to turn everything to crystals. Nothing shone in the skies that day, _or was it night_? No one had seen the sun in weeks. There was no wind or cloud in skies, just dark grey gloom of death and a freeze so strong, it threatened to turn the remaining life to white ice. Jon and Daenerys fought the creature together and brought it down. The fall did not harm the Night King and he rose, making a stand once again.

 

Drogon being the largest and most ferocious of the Targaryen dragons, had taken most of the brunt of fighting along with its rider. Jon watched in horror, his eyes fixed on the white spec on Drogon’s back as it blew out an anguished roar and landed on the icy ground with a thud. “No, no, no, Gods, not her ...” he fervently prayed. He watched with terror as Dany freed herself from the harness and slid down Drogon’s wing and her lifeless form rested against its forelimb. Her arms cradled her belly as she closed her lilac eyes.

 

Dany heard Rhaegal’s loud keens as Drogon swiveled and lost control. It was Jon’s anguish reflected through his dragon. She braced herself for her imminent death but in the last moment, Drogon steadied himself and glided through the last hundred feet of the fall. She still felt the impact in her body when they hit the ground. She prayed to all the Gods she knew to save her child, _spare my child, give Jon a reason to live_ , she repeated it like a chant. As she slipped down her dragon’s wing, she desperately felt her belly for pains or blood, there was none. Then her babe kicked, and she felt she could breathe again. She looked at Jon watching her in despair and the Night King was marching towards him. When Jon raised his sword above his head, Dany closed her eyes and sent another prayer to Jon’s Gods. She had maintained she would never survive without him. She did not want to find out.

 

Jon dismounted from Rhaegal and it flew away and perched itself behind Drogon. Brothers guarding each other’s back and shielding Dany from anything that may try to harm her. Jon’s heart was beating in his throat as he took in the sight. When he saw Ghost making his way towards Dany and their dragons, Jon promised himself that he would protect her twice over if his mortal body betrayed him one more time.

 

Jon raised his sword above his head and braced himself for an onslaught by the wights. None came forward. The living as well as the dead stood around him, forming a circle, making no move to interfere. It was the Old Way, Jon knew. The Night King would fight him in a single combat; _to death_. Jon’s raging black eyes met the Night King’s frozen, icy blue eyes. His pale, ice sword met Jon’s Valyrian steel blade in a loud keening sound that irritated Jon’s hearing. They settled into a flurry of blows, steel meeting ice. When Jon waved and slashed at the Other in fury, all his blows landed sharply on the icy sword and the creature fell back. Before Jon’s blade could freeze and snap, he landed a sharp blow to the handle of the creature’s blade, shattering it to pieces. Longclaw was turning white and would not withstand another slash. Jon pulled out the Valyrian Steel dagger from his belt and putting all his weight and strength behind it, pushed the Valyrian steel through the chest of the Other, splitting the dragon-glass dagger that was embedded in his chest, in two.

 

A loud crackling, a scream that sounded fell and unnatural, echoed through the lands. For a moment, there was a torrent of snow and the undead fragmented and scattered in a rain of broken icicles. When it all settled, everything was covered in icy white soot.

 

Jon fell on the ground, his heart scarcely pumping, he was shivering in cold and the blood in his veins had begun freezing when he remembered he was not done fighting. He was wrought and ran down the slope and then uphill where Dany was sitting still, the way he had seen her when she dismounted Drogon. Her tears had frozen on her cheeks.

 

Amidst the cheers of victory and echoes of their names and titles, Jon bent down and pulled Dany to his chest. In a hoarse voice, she said, “You did it, Jon.” He wanted to tell her it’s she who did it, but he did not have the strength to utter those words or any other words. He desperately sought her out, touching her everywhere, ensuring she wasn’t hurt or their babe – _Gods, the babe_ –. She saw the worry in his eyes and took his hand, placing it against a small jerk under her ribs. ‘ _Thank the Gods’_ he sighed. He kissed her like a crazed man, and slumped by her side, his legs outstretched and his arm around her. “I want to sleep --”, he whispered, and before he could rest his head on her shoulder, her limp hand fell in his lap.

 

“Find my sister!” Jon bellowed as Dany’s breath began fading and her already feeble body sank against his. He grasped under both her arms and dragged her up on her feet. She was half kneeling when Jon summoned last of his strength and lifted her in his arms. He helped Arya and Dany mount Drogon, secured the harness and fastened the buckles around them and asked them to fly south of the Wall. He was grateful when they both listened. “I’ll gather our surviving men and return to you. Rhaegal will follow you. Send him back for me once you are safe.” His dark eyes pleaded, “Dany, see the maester at once.”

 

“Me feared the Queen will birth your babe on the back of that dragon.” Tormund solemnly patted Jon’s back as she flew away to Castle Black. “Me too.” Jon sighed resentfully.

 

They lost many men to war, brave men of the east and the west who fought together to defeat the ancient enemy. The war may have been won but it would be a long road to restoration and healing.

 

Jon stayed with his troops as they marched back towards the Wall. On the third day, at his commanders’ insistence, Rhaegal flew him to Castle Black and his heart ached seeing Dany bedridden. He spoke with Marwyn about her health and spent the next few hours curled up around her, whispering loving words in her ears, caressing the red scars and bruises that covered her arms and legs.

 

He kissed her and whispered, “I’m alive, this will go” when she fretted and worried over his wounds.

 

He hesitantly left her behind and returned back to his men, staying with them until the last of the survivors made it back.

 

When the snows began clearing and it was time to leave, Marwyn informed them that Daenerys was too frail and too far along in her pregnancy to leave the castle. He advised against any form of travel, “-- not even in the wheelhouse. Her Grace’s body cannot take more stress”, he warned in no uncertain terms.

 

*-*-*

 

The day she woke up in pains, Jon first instincts were to scoop her in his arms and carry her someplace where she wouldn’t hurt. Fortunately, the guards and her handmaidens alerted the Maesters. All of them, dutifully lined up in their cleanest robes, waited to attend on the Queen. _There were some merits to being the King_ , he thought as he gratefully accepted their help and presence.

 

Jon carried her to the birthing chamber Maester Marwyn had set up and there he lay her down. When the Maester asked everyone to leave the room, he stubbornly stayed. “I don’t think so.” The Maester knew better than to question his King.

 

Jon stayed with her as she raged and sobbed, alternating between threatening him with banishment and worse, and clutching the fabric of his shirt and bawling in his chest. “Where would you banish me Dany, we are already at the Wall.” He jested. Once.

 

Dany cried when crippling pain shot up her spine. “Men should be gelded for this!”, she screamed through her tears and her eyes were on Jon. Jon smirked and shifted uneasily as he felt a pinch between his legs. The Maester flushed red even though he pretended not hearing anything Dany screamed at Jon.

 

As time progressed, the Maesters started fidgeting and worrying. Jon could not think beyond what had happened with his own mother and Daenerys’. He remembered no prayers in that moment and his thoughts wandered to all the ruinous places for no matter how much he tried, he never could completely shake off the melancholy he had in him. Jon was consumed with grief and indignation when an inadvertent scowl and a roaring threat from him ensured everyone melted away into the walls.

 

“Your Grace, threatening people who are trying to help the queen will not do. If you permit, we shall try unconventional methods that may be considered inappropriate for birthing a royal heir.” Marwyn said.

 

“That’s my wife and my child in there, not mummers in some wretched story of kings and queens. Do what is best for her!”

 

The Maester then changed several birthing positions for her, fed her honeyed water and warm broth. Marwyn finally asked Dany to lean on the windowsill and bend forward as he asked the midwife to cushion the floor underneath the Queen’s legs. “My wife will not lean on a bloody window, she has me.” Jon took her hands firmly in his and did as the Maester advised.

 

Dany’s endurance was waning rapidly when the midwife told her that is was time, time to push. Jon caressed her face and kissed her, “Dany, we are almost there. Just one push, my love.” She looked up and blinked, bracing herself on his strong arms, and with a guttural grunt she did as she was told. The midwife felt the babe’s head and Dany experienced a hot tearing of flesh and held her breath as her babe slid into the hands of the midwife. A loud cry of a newborn echoed through the castle. Dany fell in Jon’s arms, sobbing, as he held her to his chest. “We have a son, Dany.” Jon could finally breathe and see colors around him.

 

There was jubilation in the castle at the arrival of the new Prince.

 

Though Targaryen blood accorded its bearer the power to bond with the mightiest of the beasts, it occasionally brought them some ill-fortune in births. The Maester ordered that the new mother be moved to cleaner chambers while he took his time and examined the babe carefully before placing him in his mother’s anxiously waiting arms. “The Prince, Your Grace. He is a strong and healthy child. Do we have a name for him?”

 

Dany shook her head and the Maester took his leave, leaving instructions with the wet nurse and the maidservants.

 

After hours of unthinkable pain and screaming, a squalling silver haired boy arrived in their lives and took his place in their hearts. Jon’s quivering fingers touched the silver wisps of hair on his son’s crown as he lay nestled against Dany’s chest. He waited anxiously for him to open his eyes. There he was, the most beautiful, perfect child there ever was, opening his nascent eyes that looked grey in the light emanating from the fires of the hearth, and forming a small pout with his tiny mouth, searching for his mother’s milk.

 

Through her bleary vision, Dany looked into her boy’s perfect eyes, _exactly like Jon’s_ , like she had dreamt. “My sweetling, we have waited for you for so long.” She cooed and cried in joy when he sucked her milk and a surge of love and fierce protectiveness overcame her. She was a mother now.

 

“Your son Jon, what would you have the world call him?” She asked as she later placed her boy in his sturdy arms. Jon was lost in his thoughts, wondering how he would hold this precious and fragile little jewel his wife had entrusted him with and hummed absentmindedly. Dany chuckled wearily and shook her head.

 

She saw an entirely different man that day. He was neither terrifying, like when he was in a battle, nor melancholic, like he often got when things went beyond his control. He was neither a King nor a warrior. The man before her was – a new father. His tears did not fall, and his fears and anxieties were hidden underneath his resilient façade. In time, he would find words to say to his son but now, he was searching for them.

 

Sleep took her even before she could finish her thoughts.

 

Dany woke up in the middle of night and found Jon sitting on the bearskin furs spread in front of the hearth. Ghost was resting close to his knee and her son’s tiny feet were wiggling in air, gently kissing the top of Ghost’s head. She wanted to tell him their babe would be cold when she remembered why he was sitting so close to the fire. _Jon never liked the heat_. She watched from a distance when his lips twitched upwards and he gasped as tiny hands tightly curled around his finger. There were so many things she wanted to remember till her dying day. This had to be one of those.

 

“Look lad, mother is spying on us.” He tittered like a boy himself.

 

When her son began to fret and cry, she beckoned, “Come to bed, Jon. Your lad needs to eat.” Her body was near broken, but she decided she would not give her son to a wet nurse if Jon agreed. “Is this alright?” She asked him as she lowered the shoulder of her robe. His confused expression told her he did not understand what she meant. “I want to feed my son at my breasts and not give him to a wet nurse. But he is your heir. You disapprove?” Jon rolled his eyes and shook his head in annoyance, “He is your _son_ to do as you please, Dany. I have a condition though.” he risked earning her wrath for she had gravely warned him against it only hours ago, “You will have to give me another one of these in your colour.” He grinned, pointing to the child nursing at her chest, and her lilac irises underneath the eyelashes.

 

Jon couldn’t believe his luck when she suppressed her laughter and nodded. He laughed in exhilaration at first, and then something changed in his eyes. “I’ll hold you to your word, my Queen.” He drawled in her ear. The world went still, and their hearts skipped a beat as they stared at each other. And then, he kissed her, ravenously so, their lips coming together in a primal dance, fitting against each other like two pieces of a puzzle begging to be unravelled.

 

 

*-*-*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank you to RubySand! What would I do without you, my dear?!!
> 
> Nornblue, hope you're doing well, dear friend! Thought of you often while writing the final draft of this chapter. <3
> 
> I haven't forgotten that GRRM has said that Ice Dragons won't make an appearance in his story. IMO, show!Viserion was clearly not a wight, it breathed (fire/ice?) and its raising was not exactly necromancy; it was some sort of ice magic. The kind of magic that transformed Crastor's sons to White Walkers. So I went with the Horn of Joramun's power to control ice dragon theory just as dragonbinder can control fire dragons.
> 
> I know, I know, I'm doing it again - exceeding the initial chapter count. In my defense, I did split ch 3 in 2 parts.
> 
> I have an epilogue, more like wishful thinking, if you will. And I promise ch 8 will be the last of this. :)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please be sure to leave your feedback.


	8. Bliss

 

 **_“_ ** _Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”_

 

**Bliss**

*-*-*

 

Their son was not even a day old, but Jon and Daenerys could not think of a time when he did not exist. The feeling was akin to rebirth and it overwhelmed them in the most beautiful way. Jon had slept briefly but the first thing he did after opening his eyes was, look around for his son and scoop him in the crook of his arm. He grimaced when the nurses took his little boy from him promising to return after he was fed, bathed and swaddled.

“Why does this feel I know you already, lad?” Jon asked and answered himself in a whisper.  “Mayhaps you have always lived in my heart.”

Dany smiled enviously, wondering if he even remembered she was there. She had cried several times since her son’s birth and all of those times, it was out of sheer joy.

“Jon, have you thought of a name for him or are we going to keep calling him _son_ or _lad_?” She questioned.

“No, you?” he replied, not taking his eyes away from the bundle of joy cooing in his arms.

“I was thinking -- you should name him.” She hesitated.

Jon slipped inside the furs by her side and when Dany outstretched her arms, he pulled his arms away, not wanting to part with the little one yet. “Let me hold him, you are tired.”

“Does it have to be a Targaryen name?” he asked her.

Daenerys chuckled at his insistence on holding their son and replied, “No. You may give him a northern name if you wish.”

“Or we could name him for your brother.” Jon looked at her.

“Who? Viserys?” She mused aloud.

Their discussion was interrupted by Maester Marwyn who had come to check on Dany and their son.

Before leaving, the Maester asked, “Your Graces, if you will forgive me, I realize you both are not the ones to care for tradition, but it is my duty to remind you that it is customary to send out ravens informing the realm of the royal birth. Should you both agree, what name will the crown prince bear?”

Dany looked at Jon for an answer and he responded, “Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”

“Very well, Your Graces.” The Maester smiled and bowed before exiting.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know many Targaryen names.” He averted looking at her while speaking.

She wanted to remind him the all of Targaryens whom he idolized at some point in life. The Young King Daeron whose bravery he always admired, the kind Maester and the Dragon Knight, both Aemons, whose wisdom and valour inspired him. She smiled instead. “It is a good name. I have always wanted to name my first born for my brother Rhaegar. What better name for the Prince of Dragonstone.” She declared proudly, holding her tears back.

“Aye. Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name. He will be a good king.” Jon said, leaning his head on her shoulder as she lovingly scratched his scalp and tucked his curls behind his ears.

“It is alright to reminisce about the ones we have lost, Jon. To imagine that part of them lives on in us, our children and their children after us. Rhaegar will always live on in our hearts and now,” Dany caressed her son’s crown and spoke, “you can teach your son everything Rhaegar would have wanted to teach you and together we can watch him grow and be the man and the king _he_ would have been.” She smiled again, biting her lower lip from giving away the quiver in her voice.

“Thank you, Dany.” He voiced solemnly, without looking at her.

She kissed his crown and did not ask him _what for_. She could now hear and understand the words he never spoke.

 

*-*-*

 

“I’m worried for him, what if they don’t like Rhaegar?” Jon panicked and clutched the pommel of his sword tightly as Dany walked towards the clearing where Drogon and Rhaegal were perched.

“Your plan is to fight the dragons, I assume?” She humored dryly. Jon had been arguing against taking their son near dragons and Dany counter argued that dragons and Targaryens shared a blood bond.

Jon wasn’t convinced; he accompanied her regardless.

The dragons lifted their heads from their slumber and eyed the intruders for a heartbeat. Then Rhaegal lowered its head and curiously sniffed the bundle Dany was carrying in her arms. Rhaegar smiled and stretched its arms on feeling the warm breath of the dragon and coughed when Rhaegal let out an orange puff of smoke. Rhaegal let out a loud keen and turned its head towards Drogon who sniffed the dragonborn infant and let out a loud, welcoming roar.

Dany’s heart leapt, and she smiled through her bleary eyes on feeling a firm, protective hand around her waist and the proud but overwhelmed and unbelieving voice of her husband telling her, “The dragons know.”

 

*-*-*

On a cold winter morning, Ghost returned from the haunted forests with a pack of direwolf pups following him. Jon was not sure if those were Ghost’s own pups, but he smiled nonetheless.

One of the pups immediately took to their son, always trailing the person who carried Rhaegar from his mother’s chambers to the courtyards, and everywhere in between; often getting itself tangled in the legs of the servants or guards. It whined when Dany nursed Rhae and often tried to crawl into his crib. Eventually, Dany relented and from then on, the pup and their babe slept together.

The remaining pups followed Dany wherever she went, even crawling into the bed with her at times. “I feel as though I’m the mother of direwolves!” She feigned a frown. She loved having them around but was unsure how the pups would fare in King’s Landing. “What are we going to do with the these four, Jon?”

Jon looked up from the pile of parchments he was reading and teased her, “I suppose we are meant to have four more babes, Dany.”

Since arriving at the Wall and living amongst the soldiers and a northern brute she had come to adore, Dany had picked up their parlance and had become adept at cursing. Before she could open her pretty mouth, Jon forewarned her of the babe she cradled at her chest, “Unn Unn, not now!”

“You’ll pay for this.” She narrowed her eyes in slits and whispered.

“I can’t wait!” Jon slyly remarked, betokening her amethyst eyes.

“I want one with your beautiful raven curls.” She retorted, seductively dancing her brows, making his heart soar in affection and his groins stir in desire.

Later that night, instead of tiny soft paws climbing all over her, she felt a callused hand slowly lifting the hem of her shift and tracing the length of her legs with familiarity. The hand moved higher up, to the inside of her thighs, and a thumb slipped inside her smallclothes, stroking between the join of her legs.

“Jon” she moaned and pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“About what?”

“About this.” He growled, kneading her breasts with his other hand, “Do you know what Marwyn told me on enquiring when I could lay with my wife again?”

Dany blushed fiercely at his words and felt the blood pounding in her ears and rushing through her entire body.

“I did not think you would want me.” She offered in a hushed voice.

He took her dainty hand and placed it against his hardness. “Is this evidence enough to convince you that I _need_ you?” He drawled against her ear, nipping the soft earlobe with his teeth. On hearing his words and under the touch of his insistent hands on her, she mewled like a babe and arched like a feline.

Motherhood became her. It made her look more beautiful, her body had filled up and she had a woman’s shape now. _His woman._ The thought flared a raving desire in him to possess and claim her. “If you’re so beautiful after one babe, I can’t imagine when we have a home full of children.” He ruminated aloud, and she leaned into him, answering innocently, “My ladies had told me it ruins a woman’s form and men do not desire their wives as much.”

“My Queen, you will always be the most beautiful woman to me and, to my woes, to everyone else who lays an eye on you.” With that he lowered his mouth on her full breasts. She shuddered, thrusting her chest into him and he groaned in response, licking and softly suckling at the hardened peak. “Spread your legs wider, Dany. Allow me to taste you.”

Driven to the edge with his words, she did as he asked and whimpered when he withdrew his hand from her core and supplanted it with his mouth.

The first time he took her that night, her core defied him when he breached her, and drew him in at the same time. Her whimpers and moans, her nails raking his back, the purr of his name, it all reminded him of the night she had given him her maidenhead. He basked in the heat of that memory which incited a primal covetousness inside him and he did everything he could to be gentle with her, but in the end, it was she who made him lose himself with her words and he spilled inside her. “Don’t hold back, Jon. I’ve wanted this for too long.”

The second time, she climbed on top and straddled him between her legs. With his hands tucked under his head, he watched her with lust when she rubbed his length between her folds and impaled herself on it. She was slick with her own wetness and his seed from before, and yet when he was buried to the hilt, she encased him like a newly made sheath would do a sword. Her beckoning smile, her wicked words and her hot cunt make him feel like the green boy that he wasn’t, and not the man, who had fathered a child on her, that he was.

He moaned and hissed when she rocked her hips on him and when she had tormented him to the brink of his tolerance, he raked his hands through her hair and anchored her to him. He pulled her down, kissed her mouth, and gritted, “I longed to hear my name when I take you like this.” His thrusts were hard but spaced, pulling out of her completely before slamming back in, cherishing sound of his name. He forfeited when she came hot and screaming around him and tightly gripping the soft flesh of her behind, he snapped his hips a few more times to find his own bliss.

They lost count of how many times they coupled. His seed between her legs did not dry all night and when he woke up, he was still buried inside her and was harder still.

 

*-*-*

 

When the snowfalls receded, and the weather turned hospitable, Viserys returned to Castle Black to take leave and finally return to the place he would call home for the rest of his life.

“Is there nothing we could do to persuade you to stay?” Jon asked Viserys.

“I’m afraid not. It would be audacious to deny the King, but I hope you would understand when I tell you that my life is in Essos.”

Jon nodded in understanding and decided to take Rhaegar outside so that Dany and Viserys could spend time in solitude. “He enjoys listening to Tormund’s ramblings. Although it’s beginning to worry me how much he giggles at the story of Sheila the bear!”

“What story?” asked Viserys.

“Don’t ask!” Dany blushed and eyed Jon wryly as he kissed her on the cheeks before leaving the chambers.

“Remember the time brother when I was little, and you carried me on your back?” Dany spoke nostalgically once they were alone.

Viserys laughed, “I do, sister. Often times we were running away from threats to our lives.”

The memories struck a melancholic note. They were the last of their House, always on the run, barely a step ahead of the usurper’s hired knives. Their memories were more bitter than sweet.

“You were kind to me, Vis. You taught me all that I know about our family, about dragons, about people. I haven’t thanked you enough.”

 “It wasn’t always so uncomplicated, Dany. In my heart, I sometimes blamed you for mother’s passing and then when I sold her crown, I have to admit, I was bitter for a long time.” He sighed, feeling ashamed of himself, but he knew his sister would understand. “I made a promise to our mother and that was the only thing that kept me sane.” He admitted. “When I spoke of family legacies, in some ways I was reminding myself that we’re not beggars, we’re the descendants of a great dynasty. It kept me from feeling small and insignificant.” He sighed.

“Whatever your reasons might have been, the truth is, you kept me safe and alive. We went hungry, ran through the alleys, hid under the pier –“ she felt sorrowful as memories from their past came flooding, “I often slowed you down and yet, you never left me behind and you never forsake me. I will never forget that.” She alleviated his misery with her honest words.

They sat in silence, thinking about their fateful beginnings and where life had finally brought them.

“Give our regards to Sereneah. Tell her we will see her soon.” She smiled at last and mention of his beloved’s name brought mirth to Viserys’ eyes.

“I will. The Meereenese wish to know when their Queen might return.” Viserys asked her kindly.

Dany smiled. “Jon and I have discussed that we cannot do justice to either kingdom if we do not stay with its people. So, it is our hope that you take over the reign of the Bay of Dragons as their King. The Targaryens of east and the Targaryens of west will always be kin and stand behind each other in their time of need.” Dany pressed his hand with hers and confided in him, “Brother, I see Valyria in my dreams, I see people in its streets, fishing villages along its coasts; mayhaps one day those lands will be restored to their former glory.”

Viserys nodded, not knowing how or when that would happen, but he believed in his sister and her prophetic dreams.

 

When Jon returned with a fidgeting Rhae, Dany went inside her bed-chambers to nurse him.

As they sat waiting for Dany to return, Jon uncomfortably stated, “When I wrote that letter to you, _this_ is not what I had asked for. I only sought your permission to marry Daenerys.”

“No, you did not. And that is why you _are_ the King. You see it as your duty, not your right. I have seen enough misery to understand that people deserve better than this shit world they have seen, and they deserve someone brave and righteous to lead them to a better life.”

Jon nodded and thanked Viserys for taking care of Dany all these years. “I will always treat her with honor, you will have no cause to worry.”

“I know.” he smiled and patted Jon’s shoulder.

The three of them later sat down together for one last meal before embarking upon their new life journeys. They recounted memories from their childhoods that could truly be called pleasant. Sadly, there weren’t that many, so they reverted to folk-lore and histories of the ancient houses of Westeros.

“Farewell, sister. Until we meet again.” With that Viserys kissed Dany on her cheeks and took his leave. Dany stood solemn, bidding him good fortune and holding her tears in her eyes.

She sighed when Jon curled his arm around her and kissed her temple. “He isn’t abandoning you, Dany. He deserves a family of his own, we should be happy for him.”

“I will miss him, Jon. He was all I had once and now he’s gone.”

“Aye, he has. But you have me and Rhae and one day, we can foster Viserys’ children here.” He wiped her tears and shushed her, “You are not alone, my sweet wife.”

The surviving Dothraki followed Viserys and went back to Essos.

 

*-*-*

 

In the halls of her and Jon’s ancestors, Dany reminiscenced about all those who had come before them. She remembered the Conqueror, the Old, the Blessed, the Brave, the Young, the Wise, and many others from a long line of kings and honourable men of the dragon blood, murmuring their names as if she were seeking their blessings, telling them that their descendants have returned, and promising that they would do right by their people, just as Aegon the Conqueror had once dreamt.

In the keep that was once the dwelling of their family, where the dragon kings sat in judgement and their heirs swelled, it was impossible to not feel their ghosts and be saddened.

The once blood-stained floors inside the chambers of Princess Elia, the burnt stones inside the Throne Room where the Mad King ignited a fire that had consumed the Seven Kingdoms, they were all a reminder of the losses their family had suffered and also, the suffering they had wrought on their people. Dany and Jon walked together in silence, taking it all in.

Daenerys wept when she reached the queen’s chambers; they were her mother’s once. “Jon – my mother –" she sobbed, spreading her arms and gesturing towards the walls of the chambers.

“I know, Dany. I know.” Jon pulled her against his chest and kissed her with all the love he held in his heart. His own lady mother had never made it to the Keep, but he felt Dany’s sadness all the same.

When she took his hand and he led her into his solar, he told her “These will be our chambers from now on. Not the king’s or the queen’s, ours.”

That night was full of promise and hope for the future and yet, quiet and sombre, unlike any other they had lived. In the tumultuousness of night, when Jon touched her, she wrapped herself around him and her hands hastened to find perching on his back. He moved slowly inside her, reminding her that she would never be alone, surety of his weight above her keeping her from breaking and his hot breath against her skin remedying the iciness of the long day. For once, she had no words to tell him how she felt. Fortunately for her, Jon had never been the one for words and he understood her silence more than she did. When Dany found her rescue, she parted her lips and pulled him closer. Jon rasped her name against her mouth and threw his head back, searching his own deliverance in her.

 

*-*-*

**_Two years after the Great War_ **

 

The long and harsh winter had slowly retreated and the first signs of spring audaciously appeared. The Gods finally stirred from their long slumber and the earth had arisen with them, in forms of tendrils and grass, and flowers and blossoms. The spring was at its end now, demanding that summer returned to the living.

Sitting next to Ghost, Jon soaked his feet in the cool waters of a small pool in the Godswood of King’s Landing and Rhae ran around on his chubby legs, trying to catch Silver, his direwolf. Jon laughed when his son became grumpy and commanded, “Come here, Silver!”

 _His mother’s son,_ Jon chuckled. When little Rhaegar warbled and began fidgeting, Jon called him near and pulled him in his lap. “Tired of playing? Do you want to go back to the Keep, Rhae?”

Rhae let out a groggy cry and complained that Silver was a _bad wolf_ for not listening to him. “It’s a direwolf Rhae, not your pet dog. You have to respect him.” Jon tried to make him understand.

When he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, Jon hoisted him on his shoulders and started walking back to the Maegor’s Holdfast. Rhae fisted his curls in his tiny hands, trying to pull them to his small mouth making Jon wince. “What is it with you and your mother? She won’t let me shear them and you won’t stop pulling them.” Jon complained and tickled his son. Rhae mimicked his mother and chuckled, “Kepa, I love ‘em.” Jon guffawed at his words and lowered him in his arms.

It was a long walk from the Godswood to their solar. The maids swiftly moved and carried the sleeping Prince to his nursery.

The door to their inner chambers was slightly ajar when Jon reached. He leaned in the doorframe and crossed his arms above his chest. The sunlight was filtering through the window and dancing with the silver waves that were his Queen’s hair. Her skin was radiant and golden in the firelight, making her look beautiful and seductive, unlike lesser mortals, she was gorgeous beyond words. ‘ _Mine’_ his lips moved, whispering the word that gave Jon the kind of pleasure the Seven Heavens could not have given him. Observing him from a distance were the two direwolves whose two other siblings now lived at Winterfell.

He moved silently and she smiled without looking at him. “You’ve been gone for too long, my King.”

“Aye, your son was trying to tame his direwolf!”

“Oh! _My_ son should have known better.” She dragged her chair back and regarded him with her enchanting dove eyes.

Jon rolled his eyes and scrunched one side of his face in mockery. He took the quill from her hand and placed it next to her pin of the Hand of the King. “You should rest.”

“I have to prepare for the small council meeting, the feast for all visiting nobles in the evening, and on the morrow, my good-sisters and I are going to explore the Crownlands. Where is the time to rest, Jon?”

“Make time then, Dany. Allow me to make it up to you for everything I wished but couldn’t provide you with when you carried our son. I want you to sleep, eat, and grow fat.” he knelt in front of her and kissed the knuckles of her hands. He then lowered his head in her lap, his fingers lovingly caressing her belly.

“There’s nothing to make up for. You did plenty even in those difficult times. Next time, I shall do as you say. I promise!” She grinned mischievously and played with his hair.

In her womb she carried the fulfilment of a promise she had made to him in the blissful moments of a night that had come to them two moons ago. A night in which Jon’s heart had gone wild, stirred by her sighs, her braid that had unravelled across his chest, the mischief of her eyes, and the spell she had cast on him. Not wanting to augur ill for his joys, he contained his smile in his heart and sent a prayer to the Gods, begging for Their grace.

*-*-*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this journey. 
> 
> To the most talented and delightful beta, RubySand - none of this would have made any sense without your brilliant suggestions and corrections. ❤

**Author's Note:**

> If you are here, please leave a comment. "I was here" would do too XD
> 
> I leave my comment section open to all because i need to know that there are people who may be interested in reading my stories. Else, what's the point? Also, there are options of kudos, bookmark and subscribe if you deem fit ;)
> 
> I thank each and everyone of you who writes comments on every chapter or most of the chapters at least coz frankly, sometimes there's not much to say and I get it. I know it takes time but know that, you make my day.
> 
> If you don't like something, let me know that as well. Maybe I can fix it, maybe not. But you won't find out unless you tell me, eh?
> 
> I thank you all.


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